


I'll keep you safe when worlds collide.

by Rayxclockwork



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And a lot of sex?, Dance club au?, Darcy has all the tattoos!, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3, Piercings, Slow build with the romance guyssss, Tattoos, is that a thing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayxclockwork/pseuds/Rayxclockwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy has tattoos and an insane sex appeal that Bucky can’t avoid when he goes to a club he knows Steve would never set foot in. Darcy and Steve are really good friends, rarely seen outside the presence of the other but they both have more than a few secrets. How long before Bucky gets caught between them? Or is being between them exactly what he’s dreaming about, now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bang it Out

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Breathe Carolina's 'Collide'. I'm obsessed with their 'Savages' album. Pretty much the whole inspiration for this beginning came from 'Bang it out'.
> 
> Not beta'd. Let me know if their are any glaring errors, please?  
> ConCrit, beta, etc. welcome.
> 
> Its the first fic I've posted(ever.) Be nice? :)

               Darcy had never been what anyone could call shy. Her nights off from work with Jane usually included a very small shirt and mini skirt combo in a very loud club with heavy bass pounding through her body. Though she was more a tease than someone who banged a different guy(or girl, she wasn’t picky) every night, she couldn’t help it if she needed to let some extra steam off every once in a while. Her tattoos caught everyone’s eye which made her all the higher on the attention and feeling of the bass and hot bodies against her.

                She was pretty sure Jane didn’t even know she had tattoos, at least not this many. Her Anchor with and NJ to either side of the column on her wrist was fairly obvious. Her horoscope symbol, the sideways 69, that sat just behind her right ear was more than a little suggestive and she knew it, but she loved it. Her massive curtain of chocolate curls usually covered it, anyway. The ones Jane didn’t see was the large multi colored phoenix that started at the crest of her left hip and wound down to her mid-thigh, the ‘You can’t take the sky from me’ that spanned the entire width of her shoulder blades, and the Celtic knot work on her right hip, among others. She was addicted to ink! What could she say? Less with the piercings, though she’d recently branched out with a small purple ring through her left eyebrow.

                Meeting Steve and being one of the few that didn’t walk on eggshells around him had put more than a little bit of a spoke into her usual routine. She traded her club nights with too much alcohol and not enough clothing for cozy nights in pj’s and movie marathons.  Steve had a lot to catch up on, after all. After a few months they’d covered that he didn’t like movies about ghosts, or war – fair enough. He loved animation, chick flicks including but not limited to Rom-coms, and period pieces. Shakespeare in Love was a favorite, as well as The Lord of the Rings (“You’re crazy, and no longer a friend of mine if you don’t love it,” Darcy had encouraged at Steve’s skeptical gaze.)

                A Saturday like any other, except this time Steve was half a world away instead of in her apartment in Stark tower, looking at her with something just a little more than friendly appreciation,  picking a new movie from her and Stark’s expansive collection. He texted early in the evening to say that he was fine and hoped she was having fun without him. She promised she was, but that she missed him, as she applied her brightest red lipstick to match her strappy pumps with a black leather mini skirt and a black ripped back crop top that had ‘Bang it out’ plastered over her chest. Practically living with a man that could be considered a Greek god had taken its toll on her – she was looking to get some tonight and push the thoughts of Steve’s expansive, perfect chest out of her head.

                   [Text – incoming: from Jane Foster] Hey, what’re you doing tonight with tall, golden, and perfect gone?

                   [Text – outgoing:  to Jane Foster] Just going out like I used to. It’s been too long. Thinking about seeing some girls from High school.

Darcy felt a little bad about the lie as she finished perfecting her dark eyeliner, adding a little silver glitter. She just needed to make sure that Jane wouldn’t try to invite herself along.

                   [Text – incoming: from Jane Foster] Oh! Fun! I’ll see ya Monday, then? Or maybe we can do dinner tomorrow, if you’re not too hungover?

Cue relieved sigh and large smile from Darcy.

                    [Text – outgoing: to Jane Foster] Of course! I’ll text you tomorrow. Or just show up in the lab since I know that’s where you’ll be. Don’t even lie!

                    [Text – incoming: from Jane Foster]  >.< …you’re probably right… xD Have fun!

Darcy darkened the screen of her phone, tucking it into her tiny clutch that wouldn’t get in the way of her dancing. The club she frequented was just a block to left of the tower and she was so used to her impractical shoes that she didn’t give walking a second thought. At reaching the door though, she paused –

                  “Jarvis, my main man?” She questioned, peering up at the ceiling.

                  “Yes, Miss Lewis?” the AI responded in his cool British tones, sounding suspiciously like an actor she liked.

                  “Is anyone in the halls or elevator?”

                  “No, Miss Lewis. All Avengers seem to be on a mission or in for the evening. What shall I say is the reason you’re not home, should anyone ask?”

Darcy beamed at the ceiling, the AI always knowing what needed to be covered. “Late dinner on the other side of the city with some high school friends. Thanks, J-man!”

                   “Of course, Miss Lewis. Have a good evening.”

She nodded, knowing he’d …it? would see her and headed out the door.

 It was only a little after 8, but she made it to the club in record time, just nodding to the bouncer who beamed, greeted her by name, glanced down at her barely concealed chest and let her in without a second thought.

                Maybe she needed a new place she thought to herself as she made her way to the bar, the pounding beats of a techno song sinking into her bones. She sat at the bar for a few minutes, nursing her ‘sex on the beach’ before a remix of Neon Hitch’s ‘Fuck You Betta’ blared through the sound system. She hopped up and pushed her way to a somewhat center spot on the dance floor and started swaying a little. After a few seconds, she felt hands on her hips, a small blonde woman with crystal blue eyes who had a tall dark haired man grasping her rather small hips from behind. She stayed with them through the remainder of the song, but excused herself with a small kiss to the blonde’s jaw when it ended.

  
                Making her way back to the bar, she felt pleasantly buzzed from the heat and drink. Not buzzed enough, she thought as she ordered a ‘God of Mischief’. This particular bar had a small drink menu dedicated specifically to the Avengers (and apparently Loki) that had been implemented about two weeks after the Battle of New York and all the options had quickly become patron favorites. She downed nearly the whole thing and was tipsy enough (god, when did I become such a lightweight? She scolded herself, silently) that she would remember little of the following interaction.

                “Hey, doll,” The man that appeared next to her said in a clear Brooklyn accent, tipping his head down slightly in greeting.  
                “Well, hey yourself, handsome,” she replied, grinning as seductively as she could without her jaw dropping at the sight of his eyes – they were almost the exact shade of startling blue as Steve’s, but the dark hair and playful smirk made her think of someone else that was awfully familiar, but she couldn’t place it and didn’t care to when she noticed his eyes had wandered to her ample curves. He took her in with all the attention of a starving man, eyes catching at each tattoo. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips and that was all she needed. She wasted no time and no more words in dragging him out to the dance floor where heavy remixes of Breathe Carolina had started. She swayed a little to get him going and boy, when it rained it poured.

  
                He wasted no time in setting one had to her hips, the other tangling in her hair and pulling her close, grinding gently, the smirk still in place and an eyebrow raised in challenge. She couldn’t help but lick her lips, thinking an eyebrow ring would make that move extra hot. She blinked, shook her head minutely, and then gave as good as he was giving. Her hips moved rhythmically of their own accord against him, her skirt inched up, revealing more of her tattoo than was strictly decent. About halfway through the second song she turned around, her ass pressed to the bulge in his overly tight black jeans. Mystery man’s hand shifted down to the hem of her skirt, the one in her hair moving to rest on the top of her phoenix.

                She lost track of time and didn’t need alcohol to feel drunk off the sensations. After another song, grinding dirtily enough that she was surprised they hadn’t been thrown out or just started the sexytimes on the dance floor (sexytimes? Really, brain?!), she suggested they leave and mentioned her place was close. He nodded and followed her out.  
                He paused for a second outside the tower as though he were scared of it, but shook his head and followed her in. Within seconds of entering the elevator to the seventh floor (that was entirely hers. God, she loved Stark. She might have owed him something dirty if he wasn’t already taken.) she had this man (what is his name? Did I ask, did he tell me? I should maybe find out..)pressed into the corner, her lips slanting over his in a deep, passionate kiss that left no room for interpretation of what she wanted. He rested his right hand on the phoenix again, his hand large enough that it practically covered what was visible of her tattoo. His left however was hidden behind him, holding his balance(like he has balance troubles.. well, that is a lot of muscle) Her own hands were occupied as well, one settling on the back of his neck, tangling in the long wavy hair, the other settling on his chest. The elevator chimed far too soon and she rushed to door, making quick work of the lock and handle and yanking him in.

                 He took the hint, letting out a soft chuckle and pushed her up against the door, reconnecting their lips as though it was as necessary as oxygen. She sighed against his mouth and tugged gently on his hair, tilting her head to deepen the messy kiss that devolved into the clacking of teeth and inhaling of each other’s soft moans as she rolled her hips up to meet his. He settled his hands just under her thighs and lifted her, legs locking around his hips automatically.

                  “Bedroom,” Darcy mumbled as her head tilted to the side to allow him room to kiss and nip at her throat, eliciting a gasp when he sucked hard on her pulse point.

                  “You got it, doll,” he murmured against her ear, flicking the lobe between his teeth before carrying her down the hall to the unnecessarily large bedroom. When they reached it, her set her down on the edge of the bed.  She yanked her suggestive shirt off over her head and quickly removed the skirt to reveal a black lacy bra and panty combo. Once his own shirt had been removed, he glanced down at her, his pupils blown and his eyes a little wider.

                   “Well, aren’t you a sight,” he whispered, a little incredulous. Darcy blushed under his intense gaze and lowered her head, though she caught the shine of the street lamps off his… metal limb (?) and saw the scarring around it. She thought better than to ask, but wondered how he was so charismatic and magnetic after something so tragic.

                  “Get back down here,” she muttered breathlessly. When he did, flicking up the button of his jeans, first, she slotted her hands back into his hair and kissed him, wiggling until he settled between her spread legs. The metal fingers lowered slowly as they kissed, deftly removing her underwear and his own jeans with her barely noticing, though she noticed there was nothing under the jeans. (That couldn’t have been comfortable. Also definitely not that drunk… right? Just drunk on touch! Shut up brain…)  
               

                    He broke the kiss and slid slowly down her pliant body, pressing kisses and marking the pale skin with small bites and licks. Though she had enough presence of mind to know what was coming, the first flick of his tongue over the most sensitive part of her body still made her jump, almost her whole body coming off the bed with a sharp gasp. He chuckled lowly, hands resting on the Celtic knot and phoenix, the cold metal making her shiver as she lay back

  
                “Relax, doll,” he muttered just loud enough for her to catch before tilting his head back down, licking a stripe up her folds in earnest, appreciating the gasp that devolved into a low moan. After a moment of acclimating her to his tongue, he dove in devouring her. Every flick of his tongue and every time he sucked her clit between his teeth made her see stars. (and thank Stark silently for making sure everywhere in the tower was sound proof. She was making more noise than she thought strictly necessary, but couldn’t stop herself) He slid two fingers of his flesh-and-blood hand into her, scissoring gently to prepare her, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of her thighs. When he added a third and pumped them in and out of her, brushing the spot inside her with every thrust, she moaned a little louder, squirming under his ministrations. Without dislodging his fingers, though taking longer because of it, she reached into her bedside table and brought out a condom, using her other hand to remove his fingers from deep within her. He looked up, eyebrow raised again and opened his mouth.

                She spoke before he had the chance. “Want you in me. Like, right the fuck now. Get up here,” she demanded, eliciting another laugh from him.

                “Mm, the mouth on you,” he replied, taking the condom from her , opening it and sliding it on, while she brought forward a small bottle of lube, pouring a bit into her palm. He watched, utterly mesmerized while she reached for his cock, stroking slowly to evenly coat with the lube but not enough to get him anywhere. When she was pleased with her work, she laid back – hair spread around her pillow like a halo – and guided him into her. Her tight wet heat made him want to jerk forward, but he bit his lip, resting one hand on the bed beside her ribs, brushing the words across them that he couldn’t quite make out softly, the right one settling in the curve of her neck and shoulder.

  
                Darcy let out a low gasp, eyes screwing shut as she adjusted to the fullness. How she hadn’t noticed that he was a little bigger than she was used to, she’ll never know. His own eyes slipped shut as he bottomed out, hips flush with hers and they moaned in tandem, low and deep.

                They both stilled, their sounds of their slow, deep breaths, filling the room and the air between them. Her hands had rested on his hipbones and finally she drummed her fingers on one side and mumbled ‘move’ in a soft, desperate voice. He obliged instantly, sliding back out, groaning at the delicious drag of her insides against him, the pushing forward. Her small keening gasp made him a little crazy, wanting to pull more wonderful noises from deep within her. He kept his thrusts slow to feel every inch of her beautiful body around him. Memories of a different time and a **_very_**  different body under him flashed behind his eyes, but he shook them off and started moving a little faster as if to chase them off. Each moan that slipped from between her lips got a little louder and a little higher as his speed increased.

                  “Ohgod… fuck yes, right there, c’mon, faster,” she babbled, unable to hold the stream of words back as he filled her so completely, the drag more intense than anyone else she’d ever been with and wondering as a quiet afterthought if he’d just ruined sex with anyone else for her.

                He couldn’t hold back a small laugh, but had no more words, just kept up the speed like a champ, never seeming to tire or slow, though his human arm shook just slightly. She turned her head, brushing her lips against his wrist, as her ankles pressed against the meat of his ass, forcing him a little deeper each time. She threw her head back against the plush pillows and nearly screamed when he held himself hard against /that/ spot inside her, tremors wracking her body with the force with which her orgasm overtook her. Her entire body clenched, holding him inside her and the increased tightness forced his own release on him without warning.

               He lowered his body to hers gently so as to balance his weight, and they stayed entwined as their breathing slowed. When her legs slid off his body, releasing him, he slid out of her, forcing another soft moan from her at the stimulation of her over sensitive nerves, and collapsed next to her.

                    “Damn, doll,” was all her murmured, turning his head to look her cheeks flushed and chest heaving. “Didn’t even get to see those beautiful tits,” he added in a joking tone, eyes flicking down a bit.  
She laughed around her breathlessness and leaned up, unhooking the bra and tossing it to the floor.

                  “Better,” she challenged, raising her pierced brow and scooting to the head of the bed and under the covers she raised for him as well.

                  He nodded and removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the wastebasket before sliding under the blanket and curling up next to her. They both passed out within moments without another word.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
                When she woke the next morning, she saw the hulking (ahahaha! Hulking… ohgod…) body beside her, sprawled on his stomach, still naked and hair covering most of his face.

                “Damn. Darcy did good,” she muttered under her breath so as not to rouse him, then found a large t-shirt to thrown on, along with her panties, to make some coffee. She was a champ at the morning after at this point and exited her room in near silence.

                 He stirred at the smell of fresh coffee and wandered out to the open space of kitchen, dining room, and living room, his jeans on and zipped, but not buttoned and no shirt. She turned, two mugs sitting on the counter in front of her. “Morning,” she said around a grin in his direction. “Don’t know how you like your coffee, but I’ve got everything.”

                “Black is fine,” he mumbled, eyes taking in the apartment from the stacks of movies on the coffee table to the overly formal, untouched dining room table. A picture of Darcy and Steve (both bodies had been under him… Steve? Smaller… right? Asset doesn’t know _Steve_ ) sat by a lamp on a corner table to the left of the couch.

                Darcy stepped up to him, holding the two mugs, the one with plain black coffee in it extended to him. He still felt overly familiar, but she was definitely gonna be more than civil til she placed it. “Here ya go,” she handed the mug over then moved to sit on the couch with her feet tucked under her once he took the proffered cup and took a small sip. She held her own in both hands, eyes slipping shut as she took deep drinks.

             He set the mug on the pristine dining room table and disappeared down the hall. When he came back, shirt and jacket had been replaced, shoes on. He looked a little stricken.

             “I have to go.”

             Darcy’s eyes snapped open just in time to see him dissipate behind her door and the door itself slammed behind him. She shrugged it off as weird, morning-after behavior and went about her day as usual. She cleaned up her entire apartment to the overly loud sounds of A Day to Remember, texted Steve and Jane, and planned to finish a little work for Jane she’s been procrastinating on. Even with a perfectly clean apartment, she couldn’t find the papers she needed to read. A burst of realization hit her and she giggled when she looked under the couch and found the stack of scientific journals….and one of Steve’s sketchbooks. She flipped through the pages carefully, smiling at each piece she found. There was one of Pepper, clearly annoyed with something Tony had done but the admiration in her eyes made Darcy’s stomach flip, one of Bruce mid-eye roll (probably also because of Tony, she noted), a few of her, all profile from when they were watching movies, and the last one….

             Her breath caught hard in her constricting throat and the sketchbook fell from her hands, her body frozen in place at the realization.

            Those eyes… the striking blue eyes, locked with hers as his body moved above her… the ones that seemed so terribly familiar.

            Bucky’s eyes. James Buchanan Barnes (minus a limb, but looking no worse for wear from it). Steve’s best friend from the 40’s. Longer hair… alive?! Was it him… had to be.. he never had kids so it couldn’t be a grandson. And she’d seen weirder things.

           “Oh god. What have I done?” She squeaked to the empty room.


	2. I'm the furthest thing from Heaven, but the closest to home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve returns from his mission, and sees a familiar face. Will Darcy fess up about having seen the same person?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from 'Collide' by Breathe Carolina.
> 
> Some major plot points I need to give credit to my best friend, Nija.
> 
> The amount of feedback just since I posted this is incredible and it made me want to post some more! I can't promise a chapter every day, or even every week, but I can promise I'll keep writing and that I'm excited to see where this goes. Thank you so much, guys!<3

Two weeks was too long. He hated being away from his home for more than one night (unless he was at Darcy's. That was an easy compromise.), but two weeks was definitely too long. The plane rides home always made him antsy, even if the total time was cut in half by being on Stark's private jet. Finally, _finally_ , he stepped off the jet and headed back to St- Avenger's tower. (He'd never get used to Stark's monument to himself becoming home to the few people he cared about.) Steve asked the taxi driver to drop him off one block down from the tower so he could get his traditional post-mission caramel macchiato (and Darcy's iced hazelnut mocha) from the coffee shop they frequented whenever they really needed to get out of the tower and away from their various troubles inside it. Paying for their drinks, he tucked his wallet into his back pocket and headed to the tower.

The walk was short enough and he'd done it so many times that his eyes wandered as he strolled down the sidewalk. Within moments of exiting the coffee shop, his head snapped back. The man that passed him on the street, tucking his head as he passed (but not fast enough for to prevent Steve from seeing his face) increased the speed of his strides and was around the corner in seconds. Frozen on the street longer than he'd ever admit, Steve continued to the tower and all the way up to Darcy's apartment on auto-pilot.

He allowed himself into her apartment as he often did (only after texting Darcy to say he'd been on his way, of course.), handed her the mocha and sat on her couch - all in complete silence. Darcy raised an eyebrow, settling on the couch beside him, feet tucked under her as she sipped her drink. 

"Earth to Steve. Somethin' on your mind, Rogers?" she questioned, looking a little concerned. Even the missions that didn't end as well as he'd hoped never stopped him from smiling his perfect, infectious smile at her the moment they were in the same room. 

"I saw him.. How is he still alive? He can't be... right? How could he be alive after all this time... I mean, I am, but how could he... this isn't... its just no possible.." Steve rambled, voice incredibly low and quiet, almost not audible.

"Who?! Who can't be alive, Steve?" Darcy nearly yelled, hands and voice shaking, almost imperceptibly (unless you're a super-soldier). She had a very good idea who he'd been talking about as 'mystery man' (she refused to call him anything else just yet) hadn't left her apartment more than two hours ago. Who knew how often he was in their neck of the woods, these days.

Steve snapped out of his muttering ramble, his large, scared blue eyes locking with Darcy's worried brown ones. "Bucky," he replied, clear as day, voice still softer than she was used to, but less the ramblings of a man half out of his mind. 

She worried as much that this is who she'd.. well... (god, had she really 'fondue'd with Bucky freakin' Barnes? Ugh.) What she hadn't really considered was that she had seen him before Steve, or if so, she'd hoped that she'd have more time before he found out. There was no way she could come to terms with her own feelings on the subject, let alone help Steve with his, but by God was she gonna try.

"H-how. Why. What?" She couldn't settle on a singular question. She leaned forward and set her drink on the table, hands shaking too much to hold it still, ice cubes rattling gently before it settled on the table.  

He raised his shoulder in a non-committal shrug, the slowly raised an eyebrow. "Darcy, doll, what's wrong? You look as terrified as I feel," he mused, a broken chuckled forcing its way out of his throat.

 Darcy let out a weak laugh, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly to ease her shaking limbs. "I'm fine... I dunno... just surprised? That sounds more than a little incredible and... unrealistic?" She winced at her own pathetic answer. Super-soldiers that used to be 95 pound asthmatics, and men from other planets or men that wear iron suits and save the world - her entire life as of two years ago was incredible and unrealistic. 

Steve laughed and pulled her into his arms, her own hands settling on his chest between them, her head falling easily to the massive shoulder in front of her. "Yeah, but I swear it was him.. those eyes are hard to forget, ya know?" He released a heavy sigh, weaving his fingers into Darcy's thicket of curls. "I need to know it was him... and how to get to him. Where's he been for the last 70 years... just wandering around New York?"

Darcy released a soft, less manic laugh, fisting his shirt in her skinny fingers. "Betcha Stark has a way to find him. Some sort of facial recognition something or other?" She suggested, somewhere between confident and questioning, not really sure how she even felt about her fears of his identity being confirmed. Steve would know better than anyone who Bucky was, even with barely a glance.

Steve nodded against the top of her head, then pulled back a little to look her in the eye. How could this beautiful, unique woman want anything to do with him? His baggage seemed to get a little heavier every day instead of lighter and his drama... well, even he didn't want to bother with his drama, ever. Not only did she treat him like he was just another guy, but she looked at him like he could do anything, even things he didn't think was possible. She didn't deserve this emotional turmoil - the only reason he resisted kissing her then and there. Instead he chose the safer route he could tell himself they both deserved more. "Don't we still have like... a million movies to watch? Which one is next on the list, doll?"

Calmed just by the tone of his voice, evened out and far calmer than she imagined he could be after the jarring discovery of the day, she hopped off the couch and looked to the pile of dvds she'd straightened earlier. "Planet Terror!" She responding, grinning brightly.

Steve groaned good-naturedly. "Aww, Darce... a horror movie? Really?"

"Its not about ghosts! Its zombies! And a lot of it is actually really funny! I promise we can watch a Disney movie or something afterwards." She laughed at his response, really hoping he'd get on board. She could not deal with any romance or anything with, what she liked to call, feels. Too many feels today already. "And pizza on me?" She added as a slight afterthought. 

He nodded, unable to ever tell her no. "You got yourself a deal!"

Her grin stayed in place as she queued up the movie and pulled her laptop out from under the couch to start the pizza order online. She settled herself next to Steve, curled up against his side with his arm around her shoulders.

Once the pizza was ordered she closed the computer, set it on the table, took a drink of her (partially) forgotten mocha, then rested her head against Steve's shoulder. Luckily his temporary distraction gave her more time to sort out her own thoughts. How on Earth was she gonna tell Steve that not only did she know that Bucky was alive but that... she'd had sex with him?! But how could she have possibly known? Would he blame her? Would he stop looking at her like she was made to be in his arms? She noticed the intense gazes, especially when he drew her. She didn't know how to handle any of this, but maybe, just maybe... Steve would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that Steve waiting to go after Bucky is REALLY out of character, but I promise it has to work this way because of how I want this to go. The intense search will come soon enough!
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	3. I don't know what I'm doing, but I know how to do it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has plans. Darcy has plans. Somehow her plans turn into his, but with a different motive in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. title comes from Breathe Carolina's "I don't know what I'm doing."   
> I see a theme here...
> 
> Sooo, more sexytimes, anyone?  
> I had to give a little more info on Bucky before we can get to Steve looking for him.

Bucky settled himself against the brick wall  - only when he was sure Steve wouldn’t follow him. The building appeared to be an industrial complex, but this far into the city, it could only be a club or some sort of housing. He settled on the former as he had to be near the club he frequented on weekends - (the one he knew the clean cut boys from Brooklyn wouldn’t have considered. Well, not Steve, anyway…) - the one where he’d met _her_. The girl with the irresistible curves… the ink covering her body, the one who knew Steve. (Sleeping with Steve? Need more information. Reconnaissance might be necessary) Wasn’t that just his luck? He couldn’t escape the little punk (not little.. not anymore. Did he know that already?)

Pressing the heels of his hands to his closed eyes for a moment, he inhaled deeply. Letting out a long exhale, he geared up for his next move. The problem is he didn’t know where to start, so he stayed still and began weighing the options. He wanted to be closer to the girl with pin-up curves and the body modifications that made his head spin -  More than that he wanted to avoid Steve. With only a handful of memories returned and not enough information to know how that reunion would end, he thought it best to avoid all possibilities.

Hydra… That was another problem. Bucky’s memories resurfaced in the middle of a mission crucial to their uprising. All their plans for D.C., and the world for that matter, had crumbled under the fist of their own personal weapon.  They’d be looking for him to wipe him, try again, or worse (better? He wasn’t sure yet), they’d just kill him and be done with it. Bucky knew enough of his past self to know what Steve called him, what his real name was, the horrible things he’d done as Codename: The Winter Soldier (Asset. No name, feels no pain. Ugh! Too much in his head), but above all he knew that he’d been a good man, a decent soldier.

 Bucky (Should he go by that? James?) would’ve helped. He would’ve given the right information to the right people and fixed whatever was in his power to do so. The question remained though – where was Hydra? Would he run into someone that knew who and what he was supposed to be? The information in the wrong hands would do more harm than good, so neutral and off radars was as good a bet as any.

But her face… those curls spilling over her shoulders. Shaking his head and trying to forget seemed to be doing no good. Maybe finding her again and gathering more information on her, from her about Steve (their relationship, and why this bitch was cheating on his Stevie.. whoa… don’t know that. Need more data).  This seemed like as good a place as any and her presence, at the very least, calmed him a little. His brain ran more than a little into overdrive more often than it didn’t, but not around her.  Hopefully he could count on her returning to the club as much as he did. The only other thing he knew was her apartment… that Steve was probably at, or at least in the building. Too much of a risk, and he was nothing if not cautious these days.

He strolled back out onto the streets, keeping to his initial route back to his tiny studio on the outskirts of the city. It was only once he reached his destination, and settled himself on his bed in the cramped space that he realized it was Sunday. He doubted very much that this girl would be clubbing on a Sunday, after her… friend (for now, Steve was just her friend.) had only today gotten home (keeping tabs. That’s all. Steve had been elsewhere for.. 2 weeks. Just keeping tabs.). Looks like his plan of action was gonna have to wait a few days. Being idle drove Bucky up a wall, always had, so he silently listed the other things he could start taking care of this week – Hydra was at the top of the list and an agitated Bucky was a harsh contender at the best of times. He hoped sincerely that they weren’t watching their backs so he could have some fun this week.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Darcy was thankful for the quiet week. She spent most of it at home, with Steve, drinking copious amounts of coffee and binge-watching Buffy, The Vampire Slayer for the billionth time (Steve’s first, much to her – equal parts – delight and dismay). Thor dropped in and whisked Jane away on some weirdly human vacation so while Darcy had some work she needed to do, she had extra time and it could all be done from the comfort of her couch (or unnecessarily large bed on the rare occasion that Steve had SHIELD-y things to do).

Friday evening rolled around and all she wanted to do, with things so calm around the tower, was go out and drink – live a little.  
Freshly showered, she texted Steve (who spent most of the day in an office with a few Avengers and Nick Fury doing God only knows what.) that she had something to do for Jane. (Lying! Again! Ugh.)

“Leaving again, Miss Lewis?” Jarvis inquired from somewhere above her, and though she was still toweling off, hair wrapped up on top of her head, she had long since adjusted to that being weird.

“Hey, J-man! You need to stop creepin’.  Also, yes. Told Steve I was working out of the tower for a bit. Same answer for anyone else that might inquire as Jane will be out of the country until at least Monday.” Darcy replied, tugging on a red drapey knee-high skirt that looked like it belonged to a private school uniform and another crop top, this one with a sugar skull plastered over her ample chest over a red lacy bra and panties set. The off-the-shoulder top revealed some of the wording on her back and the straps of her bra – entirely lace and not at all helpful in terms of support.

“I apologize, Miss Lewis. Your nudity is no concern of mine, though perhaps I should delay my questioning until all parties involved are decent?” His sardonic tone was not lost on her and she let out a small giggle.

“Are you ever not decent, Jarvis?”

“Oh, often; Sir has a habit of taking me apart and fiddling with something. I’m often exposed, even if its not strictly the same thing.”

Darcy laughed again, finished her makeup (standard cat eye liner, some glitter, her best red lipstick), and tucked her feet into black strappy wedges. “Hmn. I suppose if we’re both… not decent… that’s okay, too. G’night, J!”

“Have a good evening, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy mock-saluted the ceiling and stepped out of the apartment.

The distance between the tower and her club(yes, her’s. She used to go there more than she seemed to be home. It was fitting.)was nothing and once inside, she took her usual spot at the bar to start. Alcohol was a decent ending to a weird week. She changed up her order, making the bartender laugh a little. Fire on the mountain – fireball whiskey with mountain dew . She sipped it slowly, taking in the sea of gyrating bodies in too-tight clothes and letting the heavy bass beats soak into her.

After a few drinks and nothing interesting enough to coax her up from her spot at the bar, she saw him out of the corner of her eye. Mystery man approaching her from her left side, very Bucky like smirk plastered to his perfect face. She inhaled sharply, angling her body towards him as he settled himself onto the empty stool beside her.

“I’m glad you’re here, doll.”

“Are you, really? You must know who I am, at least a little. S’why you ran so fast. Surprised you’re here, actually.” She kept her voice relaxed, drink in hand steady as she took another sip, eyeing him carefully from under her eyelashes.

“I remember Steve and I know you know him, if that’s what you’re angling at. Don’t know much about you, not even your name. For all I know, you’re Steve’s girl and last weekend was about the worst thing you could’ve done.” He tried to keep his tone nonchalant, only wanting to ease some information out of her and hoping the comment wasn’t low enough to earn him a drink in the face.

Darcy gaped at him for a moment before her eyes narrowed. “Its not like that. I’m certainly not what you seem to think I am. ‘M just a girl wanting to have some fun, let off steam. You actually complicated that quite a bit. Bucky freakin’ Barnes, right?” Her flat tone was less than impressed and her raised eyebrow dared him to say she was wrong.

“Yeah… Would it be cheesy to say I just returned from service?”

A sharp exhale left her, the meaning of his words settling in her brain. “After seventy years? Where were you?”

“That’s a discussion for another time, Doll. For now let’s say I was lost, or better yet say nothing. Steve can’t know. I don’t need him chasing me down and complicating shit.” Bucky raked a hand through his hair and looked somewhere between distressed and aroused – his eyes trained on the expanse of her abdomen showing under the shirt hem, bits and pieces of tattoos visible above the waistline of her skirt.

“He already knows. I’m not sure how much, but he saw you after you left my place last week. Also, my name is Darcy, “She wet her suddenly dry lips, focusing on the man before her – jeans and shirt just on the right side of too tight, long hair tucked into a low ponytail with a few pieces escaping, framing his face. He looked too much like Steve’s drawing for comfort, but different enough that this was her Bucky, not Steve’s. And certainly not belonging to whoever had been responsible for the metal arm, concealed by his James Dean-leather jacket and a leather glove.

“Alright – Darcy,” he let the name slide off his tongue, testing the weight of it and cocking his head to one side with a smirk when he noticed her blatant staring. “Well, he hasn’t found me yet and you… you keep things quiet. Wanna have a little fun before we go back to pretending like our lives are anything resembling normal?”

Darcy gulped in a way that would be audible if not for the pounding bass surrounding them and nodded instead of trusting her vocal cords to cooperate.   
Once she closed her tab, he reached out with his human hand and linked their fingers, guiding her out of the club. Out in the open air, her head spun a little as the alcohol coursed through her system. She only just had the presence of mind to mention that Steve might be at the tower and maybe her place was a bad idea. Bucky cursed under his breath as he considered their options. His place was too small and too far away.

He glanced at her, relishing in the calm she brought his mind, then lead her into the alley beside them. While he was more than sure she deserved better, he didn’t want to keep his hands off her now that they were so close. He wanted to suck a bruise onto the inked skin of her shoulder and take refuge in her body. He wanted the release that only she seemed to allow, even encouraged, and he hoped (for the second time that evening) that it wasn’t offensive.

Darcy let out a small giggle, pressing her back to the wall of her own accord and pulling him in close. “Are ya that desperate for a good fuck, Barnes?” She mused, breath hot and tingly against the skin just below his ear.

He took that as an invitation and crushed his mouth against hers, settling both hands on her hips. They had little time to waste and he wanted her so bad it almost hurt.  Her lips parted easily under his assault on them, her own arms locking around his neck.

He started to consider that he may be addicted to her lips. One hand moved down her hip and up under her skirt, teasing fingers sliding over the soft skin of her thigh til he reached her underwear, rubbing small circles against her sex, but never removing his lips from hers. He finally broke the kiss, to watch her face contort as he began chasing those noises, coaxing them from her as he flicked his thumb over her lace-covered clit. “You’re soaked, Darcy doll. Maybe you were a little desperate, too. These fancy panties for me?”

His use of the same term Steve used so often was not lost on her and it earned him another soft moan and she bucked her hips toward him. “Mmn, hoped it’d be you, yeah… didn’t expect it, though. Scared ya…oh! Mmm, off, last time,” she managed to finish, her thoughts interrupted as his fingers slid the flimsy lace to the side and he worked two up into her.

Bucky leaned back in, whispering against her ear as he fucked into her with his fingers, scissoring them open a little every few thrusts. “Wanted you, again. Don’t care about the other stuff. Your body …mmmn,” he licked a stripe up her neck and sucked on her earlobe for a moment. “s’like a magnet. Drags me back in. Thought about it all week, dreamed about it, even.”

Her legs shook a little, arms leaving their place around his neck and instead working at the button and zip of his jeans. “Want you, too. Just don’t have…” she paused, face screwing up in frustration. “No condom or anything…” She sighed softly, fingers pausing against the revealed strip of skin below his shirt.

“Got nothin’, can’t get nothin’, not anymore, but we don’t gotta do anything if you’re worried about… something else,” he breathed out, fingers stilled in her heat.

“That’s not a problem and I don’t have anything, so please… resume with the fucking?” She said with little finesse, forcing his jeans and boxers down just enough to release his erection, flushed an angry red and angling toward her, but she didn’t stop there. She only resumed kissing him when her underwear had been removed entirely and tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

Again without breaking the smoldering kiss, a mess of teeth and tongues, he lifted her up by the thighs and pushed slowly into her, pinning her between him and the unyielding brick wall.

Her sharp gasp had her leaning her head forward against his shoulder, fingers digging into his shoulders to better brace herself. “This seems to..ahh!  be a common, ohgod… position for us,” she murmured, words broken up as he filled her, the angle and her weight holding him in as deep as possible.

“Apparently, but it seems to be working for both of us. Can’t fix what isn’t broken, Doll,” he moaned out, thrusting shallowly when the drumming of her fingers clued him in to her readiness.

“Mmmn, aah, yeah, Fuck, James!.. true,” she panted out, moans coming steadily with each thrust, but quiet so as not to alert anyone to their presence and highly illegal indecency.

With no response, Bucky took to plunging into her body, unwaveringly hard and fast, her weight supported only on his metal hand. His flesh hand moved her hair to the side allowing him full access to the curve of her neck, baring another tattoo. The 69 behind her ear made him chuckle lowly before he attached his lips to that spot, scraping his teeth over it and tonguing the skin between them.

Her deep, staccato moans raised slightly in pitch at his ministrations, her fingers moving up his neck to thread in his hair, loosening the ponytail in the process, and tug gently to hold him in place.

Feeling his own orgasm coming to a head, the feel of her body and the cool night air around them intoxicating, he shifted himself slightly inside her, earning a long drawn out moan from her. He relocated his flesh hand to the space between them, caressing her swollen clit with the pad of his thumb, still sucking small bruises onto her milky skin.

No more than a moment after he started touching her, the pleasure wracking through her body, did her own orgasm overtake her. He followed soon after, cursing in a few different languages against her neck, her body tightening and convulsing around him. Darcy was almost set off a second time as she focused on the sensation of him pulsating inside her, filling her with the heat of his release.  When the pulsing stopped and their breathing normalized, he gradually lowered her back to the ground and tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans.

Darcy wet her lips and looked up at him, a relaxed smile on her face and eyes shining. Smoothing down her skirt, she angled her head up and brushed a kiss to his jaw, then turned away. When she reached the end of the alley, she turned around.

“Don’t be a stranger?” Her voice held en edge of concern and doubt that he never wanted to her in her beautiful lilt of a voice again.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll,” he replied with an easy smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, the metal one fisting her lace underwear she hadn’t reclaimed and the echo of her voice saying his name, even though it had only been once, ringing in his head.

“Okay. Good,” her tone had an air of finality to it as she walked away. He only left when he was sure she was long gone and headed home.

The walk back to the tower was an uncomfortable reminder that she was in over her head. Every step, the wetness of her release and his between her aching thighs, told her over and over that he was not hers, maybe not even Steve’s anymore, but she was sure he was every bit the good man she’d heard about.

Upon returning home, taking another shower, and putting on a tank top and booty shorts to sleep in, she laid down on her bed, on top of the blankets and stared at the ceiling. Bucky needed to come home, and she was starting to think that she might be the only person to convince him to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Steve starts looking for Bucky in the next chapter!
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Feedback means the world to me. :)


	4. Are you down on your luck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve begins his search. Tony is no help.

Though Darcy’s presence was always the biggest help in keeping him calm, Steve was panicking. Internally, he was at war with himself. Surely if Bucky was alive and in the city, he would be looking for Steve, right? He’d be looking and Steve had to be here when Bucky turned up for him. The overwhelming sense that there was something else wrong made him buzz with nervous energy, but he wasn’t about to drag Darcy into anymore insanity. The Avengers with all their varied abilities, maybe they could handle this and help, but Darcy was just an intern. She wasn’t cut out for this and it fell to him to keep her safe, especially from his demons come back to life.

Monday morning, mere hours after Steve saw Bucky again – _too many hours he thought harshly_ – and he had to find a place to start. Darcy’s suggestion was as good as any and he sought out Stark. Though it was early in the morning, most of the tower still sleeping soundly, he found Stark in the lab he shared with Bruce (when the good doctor was in town) not the private one on the higher up floors.  The blaring music was heavily muffled through the thick plexi-glass doors. Sure that Stark wouldn’t hear him, he entered the lab, eyes darting around to take in as much as possible – the tools strewn out over every possible work surface, the robots littering the floor (some more helpful than others, he imagined), multiple half-finished projects, blueprints, and holo-screens everywhere. Steve didn’t even know where to start, until he saw feet behind the robot labelled ‘Dum-E’. As Steve approached, wincing at the volume of the music, it stopped suddenly and Tony turned around.

“Thanks, Jarvis,” both men said in unison,  knowing the AI was the only one who’d notice Steve’s annoyance and catch that Tony would’ve been snuck up on and volatile otherwise.

“Of course, sirs,” the AI responded with the barest hint of amusement in his dry, British accent.

“Sooo,” Tony said unceremoniously, turning to Steve and glancing up, “What’s up, Capsicle?”

“I hate that nickname,” Steve murmured, shook his head, and continued, “I have a favor. I need to locate someone and I was wondering if you had the tech to help me do that.”

“Depends on what you need the tech to do, though I’m ninety-nine percent sure the answer is yes,” Tony spoke a tiny bit louder as he turned his back to the other man and resumed the welding he’d been working on prior to Steve’s arrival.

“Facial recognition; I need something that can get into security cameras and such and find someone based on the information from that. Like something police could use, but better. The guy I’m looking for… he, well, he knows how to hide.”

Tony let the tool fall from his hand, the clatter it made as it hit the floor echoing around them. As Tony turned slowly the utter confusion and borderline anger written on his face made Steve question his decision to come here first. “You’re kidding, right? You legitimately think I _wouldn’t_ have something like that?”

Steve rubbed his arm and shrugged, not really sure what the correct answer was. He just knew he needed Tony’s help… like, four days ago.

“Follow me,” Tony added, emitting a small sigh at the complete stupidity and lack of faith he was confronted with sometimes.

Steve followed him out into the hall and up the elevator where they eventually reached the private lab. Typically only Pepper was allowed in here and only then because she knew the passcode and often had to yell at Tony for something. Stopping in the doorway, Steve stood in awe, the amount of tools and projects nearly doubled here, most of them seeming to be parts of incomplete Iron Man suits.

“Well, c’mon. I don’t have all day and we can’t keep your boyfriend waiting.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and he floundered for a moment, but Tony continued before words could make their way back to the super soldier.

“Darcy and I are good buddies, ever since she took over for Pepper as science bros’ babysitter, well, and sister considering Jane. She mentioned last night you might come to me. In fact, I’m surprised it wasn’t earlier. Bucky, right? I remember hearing about him sometimes, from my dad.”

Tony looked wistful, angry and, somehow, amused all at once, but the look vanished and he gestured to a door in the back that Steve hadn’t even noticed, yet.

The door opened without provocation, obviously Jarvis’ doing and both men entered what looked like a security room. Or rather was a security room, just not where you’d expect one. At Steve’s raised eyebrow, Tony merely shrugged.

“I’m paranoid. This is not news, buddy,” he said, chuckling lowly and sitting in the large, cushiony office chair in front of several TV screens and what looked like a standard computer. Tony began typing a sequence of what appeared to be completely random letters and numbers. Coding, Steve thought, not totally knowing what that meant, but remembered the word, at least.

After a few more seconds of furious typing, Bucky’s face appeared on three of the eight screens in front of them, a timestamp in the upper right hand corner of each.

“We have official sightings, everyone! None of them are from less than twenty-four hours ago, though. This one,” Tony gestured to the screen nearest to him, “was yesterday morning, just outside the tower. The other two are from Saturday, one outside the tower and one from a club down the street. The only reason I caught him on the tower one was he knew where the camera was and looked at it. Can’t see whoever he’s with.”

“You can’t tell? Shouldn’t you know if they were entering the building? Seems like lax security, here,” Steve’s tone was more than a little accusatory. Safety in this tower should be everyone’s, especially Tony’s, number one priority.

“Well, in theory, the security part comes when someone is entering, they’d have clearance or they don’t get anywhere so whoever he’s coming in with has clearance.”

“What about the elevator?” Steve asked, somewhat exasperated. The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist who admits to being paranoid has terrible security. What the hell.

“Jarvis monitors all that and unless he sees something suspicious, I don’t see the footage. Maybe Bucky’s fucking around with Lewis or something. No guarantee she’d know who he is, after all,” Tony laughed, thinking his suggestion to be more than a little ludicrous, then went back to typing, the screens changing with every line of code.

Steve let out an extremely put-upon sigh and left the lab, figuring Tony wouldn’t be much more of a help, at least not unless Bucky showed up somewhere else in the next five minutes.

When he reached the elevator, choosing to leave the tower entirely and start his search elsewhere, he leaned heavily against the wall, hanging his head.

“Jarvis, do you have information for me? Like why Bucky was in this tower and nobody told me?”

“Sorry, sir, I was unaware that James B. Barnes was someone I should be keeping a metaphorical eye out for. He was in the tower, but privacy protocols prohibit me from revealing more than that. My apologies,” The AI intoned from somewhere unseen, the regret almost believable.

“Oh, priv- right,” Steve murmured more to himself than the disembodied voice as he exited the elevator, then the tower entirely.

Not having another idea of where to start, Steve decided to talk everything over with Sam. Maybe someone outside all this would have an idea. After that, it would be up to his big guns – Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was kinda short, and it definitely didn't go where I was thinking/hoped it would. Hopefully I can get this story back on track and all characters back to their respective personalities. I clearly don't know how to write Steve. Sorry!
> 
> Just wanted to get a chapter out, and hoping the next one will be soon. (and better)
> 
> P.S. - Looking for beta. Someone to bounce ideas off of. Professional editor that I would pay in eternal love and gratitude. (and virtual cookies?) Something? Lemme know, guys. This story needs helppppp. Writing is hard and its been too long since I've written... well... anything.


	5. Are you down for this much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve talks to Sam, goes to SHIELD, and sees something he definitely shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titles for Ch. 4&5 come from Breathe Carolina's "Chasing Hearts".
> 
> A huge shoutout to Nonnica for being my guiding light and helping hand for this story. So much got away from me and it was amazing to have someone help me ground my ideas and get some new balls rolling in the right direction.

Steve reached Sam’s in record time, sprinting practically the whole way. He and Sam hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks since the mission had kept Steve off the grid and far away from D.C. Sam was a wonderful running buddy and it was nice to have someone that sort of understood in his life, whereas the Avengers and Darcy were great, but just didn’t get it.

Rapping his knuckles gently on the door, Steve took a step back, rubbing his hand on the back of neck for a moment.

Sam was grinning when he opened the door. “Glad to see you back, soldier boy!”

Steve smiled back and shuffled into the house past Sam, who had taken a step to the side to allow the other man in. “Nice to see you, too, Sam.”

Closing the door behind him, Sam turned back to Steve and headed towards the kitchen for more coffee. “So what brings you to my neck of the woods at the ass crack of dawn?”

Steve grimaced slightly as he followed the other man. “Sorry. Got quite the bombshell yesterday and I need some help.”

Sam took a sip from his refilled mug and gestured for Steve to continue.

“Soo… Bucky? My best friend who died on that train in the alps? Simply put, not dead. I saw him a block from the tower yesterday when I got back, by that coffee shop I always go to after a mission. He ran off before I could get my bearings and I didn’t even know where to start so I just went back to Darcy’s like I always do when I get home. She suggested Stark, but he couldn’t help… How the hell that happened…” Steve rambled, speaking much faster than usual, but trailed off, his face screwing up as though he’d sucked on something sour, and plopped down into one of the chairs around the dining room table.

Sam’s jaw dropped and he blinked a few times, wrapping his head around the idea of another ninety-some-odd years old soldier returning from the dead. What was his life coming to? “He’s… still alive? How is that even possible? Are you sure its him? Like, not a grandson or distant cousin or something?”

Steve’s head snapped up and he shook it gently. “No. No way. Most of Buck’s family was dead before we went to war. No distant family to speak of and he may have got around, but there were no kids.”

The smaller man nodded and collapsed into the chair beside Steve. “Okay, so what exactly do you need from me? Its not like I know the guy or anything.”

“I need some ideas of where to look. Maybe he’s been to the VA, or somewhere else you’ve been? Maybe he lives down the block. Just keep an eye out, help me think of where to start, maybe check a few places out with me?” Steve sounded utterly desperate, but also a tiny bit confused, like he still didn’t understand what he was asking, or even talking about.

Sam let out a small sigh and nodded. “I’ll help you however I can. Maybe we can start with places around the tower? Ask if they have security cameras we could check? Since he was so close to that coffee shop you like, we should start there and work outwards.”

Steve nodded as he stood back up and headed toward the door with Sam in close pursuit. 

 -----------------------------------------------------------------

After a less than helpful visit to the coffee shop and some surrounding businesses (everyone said they didn’t have cameras, or at least not the authority to show the two men, though the seemingly college-aged barista seemed to think she’d seen Bucky before), the boys wandered around rather aimlessly.

“Look, we may not know what happened to him or even why he’s still alive, but you may want to reach out to SHIELD on this one. Nobody else has any ideas and this guy is like a ghost. I don’t think you’re gonna catch him this way.” Sam sounded a little grave, nervous about the suggestion, but firm in his belief that Steve needed more help than he would admit.

“Yeah, I really hoped I wouldn’t have to get Fury involved in this. I still don’t trust the guy,” Steve looked to be at war with himself, but conceded with a nod. “Looks like that’s where we gotta go.”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------

Upon returning to the tower and completing a rather long-winded and tedious conversation with Nick Fury and Maria Hill, Steve was a) no closer to finding Bucky, and b) exhausted. Sam had since gone back to his place, with a promise to come back the following morning.

Nick, however, had been in disappointed father mode practically before the conversation had even started.

“Look, I get that you’re an American legend, but some of us need to be kept in the loop when men from the damn forties keep popping up like daisies. “ (and that was about the least insulting part)

He told Steve they would keep their surveillance tuned up for a few days, hopefully catch a glimpse of the missing man, and reconvene on Friday to discuss options if Bucky wasn’t brought in before that.

Steve disliked the term ‘brought in’ as though Bucky’s mere existence made him a criminal, but he also knew there wasn’t a better way so far. How else would they even find him, let alone get him back to safety and a normal life. (Whatever he was currently doing would in no way be considered normal as he hadn’t tried to find Steve; something was wrong)

The long-winded part was the back and forth of what were acceptable terms for the entire operation, Sam and Maria acting as buffers between the two headstrong men. Eventually, all things settled, Steve promised he’d be in Friday if not before, and sought out Darcy. She was such a welcome retreat from the responsibilities of being a superhero.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday came with almost no news, as Steve expected, but went to the meeting anyway. There had been sightings, but not enough to track him by and nothing to link him with the surrounding apartment buildings. Maria assumed wherever he was staying must have been on the outskirts of town – far enough away so as not to be seen (especially the bad neighborhoods with no surveillance), but close enough to be around the tower and surrounding blocks easily.

Sam, who shouldn’t have officially been there, agreed and mentioned he’d caught glimpses of a man who may have fit Bucky’s description, but only in profile and at a distance. The buildings in that area were akin to tenement housing so there wouldn’t be paperwork to connect Bucky to it, even.

A few hours or planning, talking, some arguing, and a wonderful, ordered in dinner later, and Steve was beginning to give up hope on ever bringing Bucky home. Tiny glimpses and no paper trail or video footage was not a good way to start. Whatever had happened to Bucky had definitely taught him how to stay off the grid.

Steve was walking home, to clear his head he claimed, even though the SHIELD office was quite the distance from Stark’s tower (it just wasn’t the Avengers tower to him, yet. After all Thor didn’t live there, Natasha and Clint were often gone, and Bruce was more than a little apprehensive about being there full time).  He’d had to remind Sam of the six to eight mile runs he indulged in every morning before everyone had agreed to let him walk home. It was adorable that they worried – he was practically indestructible.

On the way home, he passed a club with overly-loud bass pumping from speakers that even the heavy concrete walls couldn’t disguise or diminish. Steve sighed softly and shook his head, thoroughly not understanding of this music or the counter culture it inspired. If not for the upped, super soldier hearing, he may not have even caught the noises emanating from the alley. He caught the quiet tones of a woman moaning, though he couldn’t tell if it was assault or not. (Better to be safe than sorry, he reminded himself, different parts of his mind hoping for either as the outcome for either could be awkward)

He moved toward the sounds, then stopped dead in his tracks as the woman’s voice rang out in the small area, almost echoing.

“ _Mmmn, aah, yeah, Fuck, James_!”

Steve knew that voice. More than that, he’d dreamed about that voice. He’d thought about that voice calling out his name, not… Then he saw some of the features of the man going at Darcy like she belonged to him.  It couldn’t be… Darcy would’ve said… she’d have known who he is, she’d have to.

Steve stood stock still, then turned out of the alley on silent tip-toe and ran home as fast as he could; not stopping until he’d entered his apartment. Only then did he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

What the actual fuck had he just seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so I don't like writing Steve right now. I know I will later because I have an actual outline for how the story will go. We're looking at about 19 chapters, with a possible sequel, and/or some one-shots. 
> 
> I'm sorry about the delay - My car broke down, I bought a new one(spent 7 hours at a car dealership for that), panicked about being an adult and buying a new car, worked, panicked some more, and applied for a bunch of new(2nd) jobs so I can actually afford my car payment.  
> Blah blah blah, life story, blah.   
> Basically, this chapter wasn't as fun to write as the others have been/will be, so bear with me?
> 
> Comments give me life. And joy.  
> Kudos make me panic about life, less.  
> See where I'm going with this? <3


	6. Didn't know where to turn; only knew I had to run.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tells Sam about what he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was supposed to be longer. Writer's block and stress have been killing me a little, but I didn't want to make you wait, so here's a short chapter to tide you over.

The following day, Saturday,  Steve requested Sam run with him, as they usually did, but Steve actually kept pace this time, not lapping Sam repeatedly with a cheeky ‘On your left,’ each time.

“Hey, what’s up, man? Even after missions you’re never like this. Something about the Sergeant got you down?”

Steve appreciated the more formal term used for Bucky. Whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t Bucky, right now. Or else he would have come looking for Steve, right? He let out a heavy sigh before responding, easily holding pace and maintaining a normal breathing pattern (he still marveled at that, occasionally).

“I’m… well, I found him. I don’t have a lot of details, like where he lives or anything,” he added quickly when Sam stopped and turned to him. “I just saw him again last night… But he was… well, he and Darcy were… they… in an alley…” Red inched up Steve’s neck and face as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down.

Sam’s eyes widened even more, if that was possible, and he shifted his weight back and forth a little. “They were fonduing?” He mused, laughing a little to himself. He would never stop trying to get a rise out of Steve using the stories the taller man had trusted him with.

Steve groaned, but the smile returned minutely to his face for only a moment.   
“Yeah, pretty athletically at that.” His expression turned a little dark and he scrubbed at his face with that hand that had been on his neck.  

“What the hell was she doing? She had to have known who he is. Why the hell didn’t she at least tell me… I feel like I have a pretty decent claim on getting information about my best friend back from the dead, ya know? Also, who knows if this is even the first time this has happened?! What the fuck.” He stopped, letting out another sigh.

“I take it you didn’t say or do anything other than talk to me after that thrilling discovery?” Sam inquired, leading them toward the coffee shop Steve liked so much that all the baristas knew his name (but really who didn’t?) and his regular coffee order.

Steve shook his head as he followed. “I tried to work up the nerve to go talk to Darcy. I tried to draw. I tried to sleep. All I succeeded in doing was making my entire apartment surgically sterile clean and laying on the marshmallow bed wide awake for much longer than was strictly necessary or comfortable. Also, I gave myself a migraine.”

Sam chuckled lowly, mirth gone from his tone as he pushed the door to the café open. “Well, cleaning is certainly productive if not helpful. You might want to talk to Darcy before you do anything else. Would she even know who he is, what he looks like?” Sam paused his questioning to order a hazelnut mocha.

Steve ordered an iced coffee, then moved toward an empty table. “I know she’s seen pictures I’ve drawn of him, but I don’t think she’s seen the Smithsonian exhibit and I only have 2 pictures of Bucky at my place, both in my room somewhere,” he stopped when their names were called and brought their drinks back. “I guess he looks a little different now, and if she hasn’t seen source material…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So it’s possible she has no idea? And that you worked yourself up about her for no reason? She sees this as just meeting a cute guy, hooking up. I’m sure it wasn’t done out of spite or with the intention to hurt you.”

Steve lowered his eyes in shame, sucking his lower lip in between his teeth. “Well, how I do bring this up? Sorry, Darce, you’ve been sleeping with a guy who’s been dead since the early 40’s? Not sure how he’s still alive, but you know better than anyone how that seems to be going. “He let out a bitter laugh.

Sam laughed, his wonderful full body laugh, and shook his head. “Obviously that’s not gonna work, man. Subtlety, maybe? Talk to her about him, show her some pictures, see if she owns up to whatever’s been going down when she actually knows who he is. I’m not gonna lie, though, man. Her already being in contact with him is a ton of steps in the right direction if your aim is to get him home.”

“Yeah, I just wish this wasn’t how this was going down. Why wouldn’t he come find me if he’s still…you know… him.” Steve wondered, finally taking a drink from his neglected, watered down coffee.

Sam took a drink of his own well attended to coffee, “Trauma? I mean, everyone knows that he fell from a train, assumed dead. What nobody seems to know is what happened after that. I imagine that fall did something pretty nasty and he’s not the first to go down fighting and show up after 70 years.  See if Darcy tells you anything and use what she tells you to try to get him home. Figure the rest out as you go along.”

“How do I ever get anything done without you?” Steve mused, his smile returning gradually as he sipped the coffee.

“Not totally sure. Obviously I keep everyone going these days. Maybe the Avengers need a wrangler of sorts?” Sam grinned, sitting up a little straighter. “I’d really like to meet Tony Stark, bet he’s pretty amazing.”

“An amazing pain in the ass,” Steve replied with a laugh, not missing a beat.

Sam laughed as well, his head falling back a little. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time Darcy will return, and soon you'll get more about Bucky!  
> Thanks for reading, guys!


	7. I could never get back up when the future starts so slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Darcy have a movie night. James calls Darcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Kills' "Future Starts Slow"
> 
> Sorry the chapters are so staggered. Just gotta be in a writing mood and that doesn't happen as often as I'd like. Life always seems to get in the way.

Twice now Darcy had screwed the brains (or so she liked to think) out of Bucky freakin’ Barnes ( _James_.) She didn’t really know what the right course of action was here, but she was pretty sure getting him into the tower and back to Steve was a good start. In the meantime she had to pretend all was normal when it totally wasn’t and figure out a way to contact Bucky that wasn't meeting at the club and screwing. That kinda hindered the talking plans that were necessary to getting everyone where the needed to be.

Saturday nights where Steve was around were rare so Darcy took advantage – inviting him over, ordering an excessive amount of pizza and setting up some movies (Mostly ones he hadn’t seen, but the education bit got exhausting so she threw in 2 favorites just in case – Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World and The Losers)

When Steve arrived around 5 and let himself in, freshly showered with a backpack slung over one shoulder, Darcy turned from her stance in the kitchen to grin at him. “What'll ya have, darlin’?” She questioned, leaning into the fridge to grab an Angry Orchard cider for herself.

“Just a coke, please and thank you,” he replied, taking a seat on the couch and removing a sketchbook and some pencils.

“You got it,” she nodded (mostly to herself) as she returned with his drink, already sipping hers and plopping down beside him. “Whatcha got there?” She tucked her legs to the side and leaned over the cushions to get a better look.

“Just wanted to get some sketching done while we're here,” he answered, the book open to a hyper-realistic drawing of Bucky.  Darcy inhaled sharper than normal. The image in front of her had to be impossible. Steve had somehow captured Bucky as he currently existed, long hair tied back in a small ponytail right over his occipital bone. A few loose strands framed his face, but the expression was all wrong. It was one she’d seen before in a different drawing, but it was as he appeared in the 40’s. The grin was easy, laid back, and extremely flirtatious. The same expression in person still existed, but no longer reached his eyes the way Steve had captured in this particular picture.

“Somethin’ wrong,” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her. He hoped to illicit some sort of response, hopefully a confession even, but Steve was slowly but surely learning to master the art of playing it cool.

Darcy shook her head quickly, leaning back away from him and queuing up the first movie, The Losers. “Nah, its nothing. Your drawings just always get me, is all - so life like and beautiful. That’s Bucky, right?” Steve may have been learning, but Darcy was already a master and had been most of her life after dealing with her mother.

Steve nodded, adding some more detail around the chin and below before flipping to a blank page to start something else. No way did she not get it; she just didn't want to share with the class. He sucked in a deep breath to stay calm before starting a drawing of the beautiful woman in front of him. Her tank top and running shorts (that he suspected weren't actually used for running as Darcy mocked that singular past time of his) allowed a good view of the phoenix on her thigh and the entirety of the watercolor lotus on her shoulder. Though Steve had drawn Darcy many times, her tattoos always posed the greatest challenge – the way they curved with her body, but their details stayed static. Her hair was another challenge. It was usually up in a messy bun so it was out of her way while working, but now it was down, cascading over her shoulders (to hide the hickeys, but she wasn't about to mention that little tidbit).

They both stayed silent through the movie, Darcy scrolling through her laptop. When Steve did look up, he saw page after page of pictures of other people’s tattoos on the screen, reflected back on her glasses. The light glinted off the hoop in her eyebrow and cast an eerie glow around her hair in otherwise low-lit room.

Darcy hopped off the couch, her open laptop left on the coffee table when the pizza arrived a little after six. Only then did Steve set his sketchbook down, nudging under the couch with his toes. He was fairly certain that Darcy had never seen any of his drawings of her and for now he chose to keep it that way.

The rest of the evening passed as these get-togethers of theirs usually did – food, drinks (though Steve never bothered with alcohol that wouldn't get him drunk, anyway), good movies, and increasingly loud discussions about said movies. Darcy had opinions and demanded they be heard. While Steve was still a little more than annoyed about the current situation, he allowed that Darcy may need time to open up to him about the personal details and chose to relax and enjoy her company.

When three and a half of the five pizzas had been demolished and they’d gone through The Losers, Cruel Intentions, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and the first episode of BBC’s Sherlock (all of which ended a little after one in the morning), Steve chose to excuse himself. Gathering his stuff, including the forgotten sketchbook under the couch, he draped a nearby blanket on the dozing Darcy and knelt over to kiss her forehead, eyes catching on a small bruise just below her 69 tattoo. “Sweet dreams, Darcy doll,” he muttered as he left, eyes holding a sadness he wished he wasn't still feeling.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

When Darcy awoke the next day to an overly bright sunlit apartment at seven in the morning, she moved to her bedroom with the brilliant blackout curtains and passed back out with the lingering thoughts that she needed to see more of Steve’s drawings and that she was in desperate need of a new tattoo.

Several hours later, Darcy awoke again to her phone vibrating on the bedside table. Flicking the lamp on said table on, she shoved her glasses back onto her face and glanced at the screen of her noisily vibrating phone. Blocked number.

“’Ello,” she murmured, tucking the phone into the space between the pillow and her head before laying back down.

“Hello yourself, Darcy doll. Still sleeping at this hour?”

Darcy shot up, back ramrod straight and eyes wide now. Eyes flicking over to the clock, she registered that it was just after noon, now. “Late night, I guess. How'd you get my number? D’you even know how to work a phone? Do you have one of your own? Why is this number blocked?”

“Darcy!” James’ tone was amused as he cut off her ramblings. “Of course I know how to work a phone. I’ve operated much more complicated technology before. Yes, I have my own. Its even a cell phone. The number is blocked because I want it to be, but I can give you the number later so long as you promise to keep it to yourself. And as far as getting your number, lets just say I have skills and I used some for this.”

Darcy was worrying the inside of her lower lip between her teeth, then let out a soft sigh. “Okay. All fair answers. Now. Why’re you calling – clubbing and sexing not doin’ it for ya, anymore, soldier boy?”

“No, of course that’s all fine, but how d’you feel about doing something normal? Just hanging out or something. Not sure what the right term is these days or even what a good suggestion of something to do would be…” He trailed off, hoping she could fill in the blanks, but he schooled himself to keep his tone light.

“Well,” she started, leaning against her headboard. “I've been wanting a new tattoo. You wanna come with?”

James grinned and nodded, then realizing she couldn't see him, answered. “That sounds wonderful. I love all that ink of yours. It’ll be interesting to see the process instead of just the finished project. “

“Great, meet me a block east of the club at 3 tomorrow?”

“Can’t wait, Darcy doll.”

With that, he disconnected, smiling to himself. Darcy was intriguing and as he gained more memories, he felt that she could be his gateway back into Steve’s life as well, though not as they’d been. The past was better left to the past, now. Maybe Darcy was more of a gateway to his future. Whatever he wanted that future to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Darcy's lotus - http://www.pinterest.com/pin/180707003773537424/  
> All her tattoos are either something I've seen, I have, or I want. The phoenix is based on one my friend just got, the 69 and "You can't take the sky from me" I want, and the one she's going to get is one I have (a picture will be posted next chapter)
> 
> Also, who caught the the favorites were both Chris Evans movies? Yeah... sometimes I crack myself up. 
> 
> ConCrit, comments, kudos, etc. encouraged. <33333


	8. Just because you feel it doesn't mean its the truth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets ready for a date.

Monday morning, Darcy woke much earlier than she normally did, heart pounding. She knew better than to worry after everything, but her autonomic responses didn’t seem to get the message. Butterflies had infiltrated her insides while she’d been sleeping, but with several hours left to prepare and the knowledge that she wouldn’t be going back to sleep, she chose to get up and over analyze every detail about her clothes and makeup for the day.

Steve would be in the office all day (so weird to think of Steve, Mr. action all the time, Captain freakin’ America, in an office). He’d seen the majority of her ink with no questions asked so one more wouldn’t make him raise an eyebrow and since it was all happening during the day, she wouldn’t have to make excuses. Or so she thought.

Darcy started the day with an absurdly long shower. The hot water that never ran out was a luxury she would never adapt to after a long string of crappy apartments with bad water heaters and too many roommates. When she was done, she pulled several outfits from her closet, but none of them seemed right. A simple pair of jeans would suffice, but after the overly skimpy getups she chose for the club, everything seemed tame enough to make Bucky lose interest. Like what if he only liked her for the curves he wouldn’t see in normal clothes (ridiculous, Darcy. He wouldn’t have hijacked your number and called if that’s all he wanted).

Finally she settled a right pair of grey flared jeans and a crimson halter top (necessary given the placement of the new tattoo) with a black bandeau under it. She did her hair back into a loose braid, pulled over one shoulder, and minimized her makeup to  a cat eye liner, some mascara, and lipstick that matched her top (Hey, she couldn’t mess with her signature look).

With 2 hours to spare before she had to leave and a large mug of coffee in hand to steady her nerves, there was knock at her door. Her head snapped around, pierced left eyebrow raised. Bucky wasn’t supposed to be here, she’d told Jane she would stop by this evening and she wasn’t expecting anyone else. After the second knock, she opened the door to reveal Steve.

“Hey, Darce!” he grinned, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans (Hmn. That’s not office attire). She stepped to the side of the door and allowed him in, a large smile gracing her features.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked, moving back to her coffee table that had a small pile or earrings and rings for her eyebrow on it. Plopping down on the floor, she rummaged through the pile, intent on find something.

Steve sat down on the couch, just to her right. “Decided not to go into the office since there’s nothing to do there and wanted to see what you were up to. Wanna get lunch or watch some movies or something?”

Darcy raised an arm in triumph when she found what she’d been looking for – a small black titanium ring to replace the purple one in her eyebrow. Purple and red just didn’t go together and she’d had the piercing long enough that it was easier to change every time she tried. The captive hoops with the ball were still hard to close though.

“Wish I could, hun,” she answered absently. “I’m getting a new tattoo today and the appointment is at three-thirty, so I don’t have much time.”

Steve nodded to himself and locked eyes with her as she climbed up onto the couch beside him, body aimed toward him with her feet tucked under her.  “You want some company? I’ve been wondering about all that. Tattoos weren’t exactly common in the thirties and forties. Saw a few on the commandos, though.” Steve’s ulterior motives in relation to Darcy’s plans and life made him feel dirty and sneaky. He was not his usually snarky self and he knew that someone would catch on if Darcy didn’t, but he didn’t know how to be honest about this either.

Darcy froze, eyes widening minutely enough that Steve saw it and knew what her answer would be before she’d even opened her mouth.  “Uhm, mind me rain checking on that? I’ve got several planned out. This one should only take about twenty minutes ‘cause its pretty small. I feel like it’d be more fun for you to see one of the bigger ones.” She chewed a little on her lower lip, one of her nervous tells that anyone who’d known her, even briefly, had picked up on.

 Steve let out a tiny sigh and nodded. “Yeah, sure, Darcy doll,” he replied, an easy smile crossing his face.  “Wanna get some dinner when ya get back?”

Barely letting up on her lip, Darcy shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve got some errands to run after, but if I get back on time, I’d love to. If not, we can watch a movie or something? I need to see your new drawings, Rogers. See if any are worthy of a place on my body.” Mischief rose in her eyes as a small smirk worked its way onto her face.

“Sounds great,” he answered, effortlessly covering the disappointment and suspicion he seemed to always feel around Darcy since he’d seen her with Bucky, then stood back up. He couldn’t be around her right now, but maybe that night she’d talk to him. More than anything, he wanted things to return to normal, but Bucky’s existence complicated everything.

“I’ll text you,” Darcy added, flashing him a small smile as she reached for her abandoned coffee.

“Looking forward to it.”

With that Steve left, hands shoved into his pockets, and a hope beyond anything that something would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry, guys! The last few weeks have gotten away from me. The World series (even though I hate sports) was a big deal (I'm from/live in KCMO) and work and I don't even know. I know this is short and repetitive and blah, but I wanted to give you guys something. The next chapter should be better, I hope, and will come in the next few days.  
> If not, I give someone permission to slap me. Or something. :)
> 
> Happy Halloween!


	9. Every breath is a choice; Every minute is a choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets a tattoo and talks to Bucky about coming home.

True to his word, Bucky met Darcy at the designated meeting spot at three on the dot.  Though Darcy was somewhat shaken at Steve’s current demeanor, she was doing her best to keep the secret and still enjoy herself. She knew that Bucky was supposed to be very charming when he chose to be and having experienced so little, she hoped to help break that Bucky out of his shell. She beamed at him, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.  
  
“I’m glad you suggested this. I’ve been dying for more ink, and it’s nice to see you in the daytime,” she teased gently, linking the fingers of her left hand with his right as she directed them toward the tattoo shop.

“Yeah, clubs and alleys don’t seem to do you justice, darlin’. You look gorgeous. Didya get all dressed up just for me?” His grin was infectious and made him look younger, much less troubled. It made her wonder how much he remembered and how he was handling the twenty-first century.

“Knowing I was gonna see you may have had an effect on the outfit, yes. Though I suppose there’s little I could do that would shock you after what you’ve already seen of me.” She winked up at him, her right hand shoved into her almost too tight jeans pocket.

“That may be true, but its nice that someone was thinkin’ about me. That’s a bit more shocking than seeing you all dolled up. Not used to that kind of attention,” he replied, metal fingers pulling the door of the tattoo shop open for her when she gestured that they’d arrived.

Darcy released his hand, mumbling a thanks and smiling her appreciation.   
“I’d like to hope we can readjust that way of thinking. Steve thinks about you all the time. Never stopped, ya know.” She halted the conversation momentarily to pull her id out of her wallet and talk over what she wanted and where.

She had to wait a few moments, but when she was settled in the chair, her halter untied and head turned away from the tattoo artist, she looked back to Bucky. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything, but I thought you should know that Steve misses you. That he can help. Or both of us. I’m not trying to stop you talking to me, cause I like you, but I’ve known Steve long enough that I can’t ignore his feelings. I have to take him into account, too.”

Finishing her spiel, she winced as the needle touched the taut skin over her collarbone. Bucky had taken up residence in a small chair to her left and though he maintained eye contact, he had no answer for her. He knew that Steve wanted him around, knew before Steve had even seen him that the blonde would seek him out should he have known that he was alive. He stretched his metal arm out, securely covered to stay inconspicuous, but he hoped she would recognize the gesture that was grander than he could put into words. He laced their fingers, gingerly so as not to jostle her and ruin that tattoo.  Finally words came to him.

“Darcy, Doll, I understand. I get it and I’m working up to it. I know he knows about me and wants me somewhere with him, but I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready for him. Can I just… can I just spend more time with you?” He offered her a small smile, squeezing the fingers in his grasp.

Darcy chewed on her lip, returning his smile. “Just keep thinking about it,” she answered, trying to keep still, though the tattoo was almost done. “That’s all I can ask. In the meantime, I would love to spend more time with you. I’m doing my best to keep my involvement with you a secret. Maybe you’ll be ready by the time that gets too hard,” she added, trying not to laugh at her own, fairly awful, joke.

“Sounds good to me,” he grinned, leaning in to brush his lips against hers momentarily, then pulled back and watched the needles moving in and out of Darcy’s skin. A few minutes later and the tattoo gun quieted, the shop eerily silent with its buzzing absent.

“All done. You wanna take a look before I bandage it?” The tattoo artist questioned, a slight smirk on his face after hearing the exchange between Darcy and Bucky.

“Yes!” Darcy exclaimed, jumping off the chair hard enough that her boobs almost spilled out of the too-small fabric over them.  Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped minutely when she saw it in the mirror, her left hand holding the shirt up.

“Its beautiful,” she breathed out, almost unable to tear her eyes away – how she always felt when she got new ink. Just below her right collarbone in a curly script sat the words 'Every minute is a choice.'

“Perfect, Darcy doll,” Bucky added as she turned around and perched on the edge of the chair to get bandaged, the normally pale skin red and swollen now.

“Kiss?” She asked, almost giggling as she tilted her head up a fraction.

Bucky obliged her, again only a chaste brush of lips before pulling back and smiling.

When she was done and had retied her halter, she paid the man, adding a generous tip, and led the way back to the street, fingers relinked with Bucky’s.

“What were those measly little kisses about, huh?” She mused, pouting slightly.

“More than you’da got during a first date in the forties.” He replied, chuckling.

“Uhm, that’s kind of a bullshit excuse after everything we’ve done, isn’t it?” She raised an eyebrow, eyes alight with laughter and tone teasing.

“Hey now! I’m a gentleman and demand to be treated as such!” he teased back.

“Demand? Oh, you demand now?” She mused.

“Yes,” he answered simply, stopping when they reached the club. “Here seems to be your stop, dearest.”

“You didn’t to do something else, today? Get something to eat or something?” Darcy asked, looking up at him with searching eyes.

“Not today, darlin’,” he answered, giving her hand a small squeeze. “Gotta start small. Instead of a coffee date, we did a tattoo. After that, dinner or something similar, then dinner and a movie, then sexytimes - Isn’t that the breakdown these days?”

Darcy laughed, sudden and loud. “Somethin’ like that,” she spoke when she quieted a little. Then she leaned up and kissed him gently. “Til our dinner date, then. Call me soon?”

He returned the kiss, only just deeper than the pecks she’d received earlier. “Of course. You’ll hear from me sooner than you think,” he answered with a small wink.

With that, she turned and headed toward the tower. Once she entered her suite, her phone vibrated. When she pulled the phone out and saw the number, followed by a message from Bucky requesting a second date, she laughed.  Yeah, this would go pretty well. At least… she hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the second half of the last chapter, but the muses weren't working with me the last few weeks.   
> Next time, expect angst! Expect a fight! It'll be great.
> 
> Also, the tattoo described in this is mine. I have a picture but I have to figure out how to link it. Its my favorite of my four and comes from the Chuck Palahniuk quote, "“Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. Every time you don't throw yourself down the stairs, that's a choice. Every time you don't crash your car, you re-enlist.”
> 
> Tell me what ya think, guys! <333 Thanks for reading!


	10. Loose lips sink ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl's Night!

Darcy and Bucky planned the date for that Friday evening. Fearing the repercussions of telling Steve what was up after keeping the secret this long, she pretended everything was just as it should be.

Jane, however, knew something was going on. Even through her science-induced haze, she could see Darcy buzzing with nervous energy all week. Thursday morning she put an end to it. Between her, Pepper, and Natasha (mostly Nat), they’d get Darcy to fess up and be back to her regular self.

At 6pm, when Darcy would have long been gone or showed back up to make sure Jane ate something, Darcy was still at her computer. Jane closed the laptop (she couldn’t delete the work, after all) and gripped Darcy’s wrist.

“Up we go, hun!”

“Uh… where?” Darcy raised an eyebrow as she stood up. She wasn’t prepared to argue with her boss at the moment.

“We’re gonna go drink! We’re gonna drink a lot. With Pepper! And Natasha!” Jane was moving toward the door, tugging Darcy’s arm gently.

Darcy laughed a little as she followed the enthused astrophysicist out of the lab. “Okay. Drinking. Why?”

“Cause its been forever since we’ve done anything together, sans avenger boys. A girl’s night out is necessary.” Jane was a little nervous at the attempt to cover up her concern and plans involving Natasha and liquor but seemed to be covering extremely well.

Darcy shot a text off to Steve that’d she’d be back late, but wanted to meet for lunch at her place the next day. A hangover wasn’t going stop her from trying a recipe she’d been dying to run past him for a few weeks now. His lack of response didn’t worry her. He often forgot he even had a cell phone. (well, StarkPhone)

Arriving at the bar took only a few minutes (Darcy would never get over the incredible placement of Stark tower… Avengers Tower… as compared to anything she could ever want.) Pepper and Natasha were already seated in a somewhat secluded booth, deeply immersed in conversation.

Jane and Darcy made their presence known, greetings were exchanged and a few rounds of shots were ordered. (Wonderful start to the evening already in Darcy’s book.)

Though everyone took part in the rounds of shots over lively conversation (ironically, mostly about the Boys, Darcy noted), Natasha seemed much less… well… drunk. After 2 more shots, Darcy took no more notice. She was too busy ordering dirty sounding drinks from the baby-faced bartender, at the suggestion of Jane, and watching him blush.

“So,” Natasha could sound so threatening. Even in her nice voice. How did she do that? “Darcy, what’s been going on in your life? You seem… distracted.” Her pause was for dramatic effect. She knew exactly what she was saying and how to say it.

Darcy gave a noncommittal shrug. “Its nothing. Just.. boy stuff?” She scowled at her own tone making it a question.

Natasha raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Just boy stuff? Or Steve stuff?”

“It may or may not have to do with Steven,” Darcy replied with a small giggle, her tone bordering on indignant, then took a small sip of her drink.

Jane and Pepper quieted as the Natasha leveled her gaze at Darcy, clearly seeking more information. Darcy let out a small sigh before unloading everything.

“Kayso, Steve’s best friend, Bucky Barnes? He died in the war. Everyone knows that. Except he’s not dead. He’s here, in New York. And I maybe kinda sorta had sex with him. Twice. And one of those times was before I knew who he was. Now I know who he is and he wants to be around Steve again, but totally isn’t ready, and Steve can’t know until I can get Bucky to move into the tower, right? Otherwise Steve will force things and this is gonna end so bad. Also, he’s got a metal arm!”

Jane and Pepper’s jaws dropped and Natasha’s sly smirk at getting Darcy to spill slid off her face, but no other emotion replaced it. Moments after she stopped speaking Darcy’s own small smile slipped, her eyes widened, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

Pepper was the first to speak, ever the calm in a storm, even tipsy. “Sooo, you slept with Steve’s dead best friend? Even though you’ve been crushing on Steve since you guys met?”

Darcy nodded, hand still firmly in place to prevent anymore unwanted words from exiting her vocal cords. She scowled when she realized she’d admitted to even more.

Pepper laughed softly. “Quite the predicament you have there, dear.”

Jane’s mouth was still hanging open. She closed it only when Pepper turned back to her and cleared her throat. Natasha was still silent, but her eyebrows were knit together in concentration and mild confusion.

Natasha finally found words. “Do you want advice, or do you want to continue to suffer in silence?”

Darcy chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “Well, since you know, may as well hear what you have to say?” Her answer became more of a question. She was pretty sure she knew how to best handle this insane situation, but Natasha was pretty smart so maybe she would know better.

“You need to tell Steve. You need to be honest with him. He’s had enough trouble trusting the people around him, especially since he woke up. I think he knows something’s up. If that’s true then he’s gonna be really mad when the truth comes out. He believes in you and he believes you wouldn’t hide anything from him.” Natasha looked stoic, but her tone of voice revealed her affection for Steve and her worry about how all this would end.

Darcy let out a soft groan, both annoyed at the obvious yet brilliant answer and disappointed in herself for knowing she wouldn’t do it that way.

“Yeah, maybe,” she answered half-heartedly, sobering up dramatically.

Jane and Pepper resumed their previous conversation, everyone a little uncomfortable with the current topic of choice. After that, the evening went fairly smoothly, but Darcy couldn’t shake the feeling that something less than good was about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be longer.  
> Sorry its been ages since this was updated. Family stuff, got stitches for the first time, and work is obnoxious.   
> Hoping another one or two chapters will be posted in the next 24 hours to make up for it.


	11. You said some things that you can't take back; I know where it's going when you look like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Darcy eat lunch. Steve and Darcy fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Breathe Carolina's "Shots Fired"  
> This chapter would not have happened without Nonnica.

Friday afternoon, as discussed, Steve showed up at Darcy’s.

As Steve let himself in, Darcy called out her greeting from the kitchen. “Hey, Steve! Come in, have a seat or beer or whatever! Make yourself at home!”

She was already over halfway through cooking the baked parmesan garlic chicken. With the chicken in the oven, she was mashing potatoes to go with it and waiting on the garlic cheesy bread. Steve did as Darcy suggested, grabbing a bottle out of the fridge before sitting at the already set dining room table.

“How’s it goin’, Darce?” he asked, smiling in her general direction, though she was busy pulling out plates and silverware and such.

“I’m alright. Had a girl’s night last night. Natasha proved she was smarter than everyone else, again and I drank too much. Again.” She chuckled self-deprecatingly as she pulled the chicken from the oven.

“You didn’t have to cook if you weren’t feeling up to it,” Steve replied as he sipped the beer, wishing for the umpteenth time this century that it would actually affect him.

Darcy shook her head, unruly curls bouncing off her shoulders as she dished up the food and carried it into the dining room. “S’all good, soldier boy, just a little hangover. I’ve definitely dealt with worse.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, but took her at her word before cutting into the chicken and taking a bite. “Never mind, cook for me always,” he joked after swallowing, grinning over at her.

She took a bite of her own, groaned appreciatively at the taste, then smiled back. “Yeah, I’m just that good.”

The meal passed in bits of conversation about their respective jobs and companionable silence. When she noticed the empty plates and Steve’s posture more than implying he was stuffed, she cleared the table, bringing sodas back from the fridge for herself and Steve.

Darcy sat back down, popping the tab on her own soda and sliding the other one to Steve.  As they each took a sip, they leaned back in their chairs and smiled.

Steve set his can down and tilted his head back for a moment, before locking eyes with Darcy across the table. “This is real nice. Its been awhile since we’ve done anything like this.”

Darcy giggled and she shifted in her chair. “What d’you mean? We see each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but not like we used to; we watch a movie or something while you’re finishing work, but we don’t talk or really spend time together as much.” His smile slipped slightly at the feeling of nostalgia, dejection clear in his tone.

Darcy chewed her lower lip, a few answers rolling over her tongue, but none of them coming to voice. Suddenly her phone chimed on the kitchen counter behind her. She stood to answer it, failing to keep her reactions in check.

[Text – incoming: from Bucky freaking Barnes] Hey, doll. Mind meeting at my place? Where I wanna take ya is closer to my neck of the woods.

The smile that split her face was larger than Steve had seen on her in a while. He had a feeling he knew what that text was about.

She typed out a quick reply and turned back to Steve, smile slipping at the tone of his voice and her own attempt to cover for herself. “I’m sorry if I’ve been distant. I definitely want to spend more time together, but unfortunately I can’t right now. Jane needs me in the lab.”

“That’s not what that text was about… Why are you lying?” Steve’s tone was colder than Darcy could ever remember hearing, the legendary temper making itself known so rarely and she was immediately taken aback.

“Steve… why would you even.. what makes you think I’m lying? I can’t be happy about working?” As well as taken aback, Darcy was on the defensive.

“Enjoying your job is one thing. You looked the way some of the USO girls used to look at me. That’s ain’t just enjoying your job.” He lessened the ice in his tone, hoping she’d be more receptive and willing to open up to him.

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “And what would you call it, Steve?”

Steve groaned softly, burying his face in his hands. “I’m saying this all wrong.”

“Yeah, Steve, you are.”  Darcy’s phone chimed again. The incoming message was Bucky’s address and a winking smiley face.

Steve’s eyes snapped up at the ringtone, steely gaze meeting Darcy’s once again. “I saw you and Bucky. In the alley. I was hoping that you cared enough for our friendship, or at least me as a human being to tell me the truth, but clearly that’s not the case.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped. She thought she’d been so careful. “I don’t think you saw what you think you saw. It was just a guy. Sure, he has the same name, but Bucky… he’s dead, Steve. Has been for a long damn time.” Her voice calmed a little more with each word, so much so that she could almost believe what she was saying.

At that Steve stood up, slamming a fist down on the table, some soda sloshing out of the mostly full cans. “Darcy! Quit lyin’ to me! I told ya! I saw him!”

Darcy licked her lips and took a small step back, trying not to betray her fear at Steve’s temper. Even if he didn’t mean to, throwing his weight around could end with her getting hurt. “Fine, what if you did. What right do you have to know any of this? What, were you following me that night? So pissed off that I’ve got a life outside you and this damn tower that you needed to keep tabs on me?”

“If you were so worried about privacy, why were you fucking him in the damn street,” He shouted in response, filter nearly nonexistent at this point. He knew in the back of his head that he shouldn’t be saying this, but he’d had enough.

Darcy’s face crumbled as though she’d been slapped. “So what is this about Steve – that I fucked Bucky and didn’t tell you, that I did it in public, or that it wasn’t you?”

Without giving him time to respond, she ran towards the door, pausing only to pick up her shoes, not even put them on, and sprint out of the apartment, door slamming in her wake.

Steve wasn’t even sure if he knew the answer to her question anymore.

 -----------------------------------------------------------

Bucky was going through the few nice clothes he had this side of the century, plans already made for the date except what he was going to wear. He had hours yet, but it was always better to be prepared.

The shock of hearing someone knocking on his door when literally the only person who currently knew his address was Darcy forced the shirt he was holding from his hands to the floor.

He paused for a moment before heading toward the door, fingers twitching toward the knife at his waist. When he opened it cautiously, he was disturbed by what he found, though expecting it nonetheless.

Darcy. What he didn’t expect was the mascara tear tracks over her wind burnt cheeks, unlaced shoes, and messy, tangled hair. She’d clearly run the entire way from her apartment and whoever caused this would pay dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, another chapter. Sorry these took so long!  
> Hopefully smooth sailing from here. Smoother, anyways.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads, comments, leaves kudos, etc.   
> Its incredible to get this kind of feedback. :D <33


	12. There's nothing left to say, I'm never gonna change, gonna make mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy talks it out with Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from (shock and awe, I'm sure) Breathe Carolina's 'Mistakes'  
> These chapters always take longer than I want them too. I'm sorry.  
> Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> Also, I'm gonna warn you now, there probably won't be another chapter til after the holidays. I don't really get extra time off, other than the days I'll be spending with my family. I'll try, though!  
> And the next chapter will be longer! I promise!

Steve knew, absolutely, without being told, that he was out of line. As much as he cared for Darcy, her lies were unacceptable. However, to slut shame or imply the things he had were several steps below the belt. He used to beat up guys that talked to da- women like that. Well, try to, anyway. He used to seethe over the men that felt they could treat women like property or be angry about their personal choices. How did he become one of those men? How did he become the very thing he abhorred back in the day? Without a clue where she’d gone or when she would return, Steve stewed. Angry at himself, still angry at her (though he knew now it was only because of the one massive, life-changing lie), and all he could do was sit and wait for her to come home so he could apologize.

 

The sparsely decorated furniture of the apartment shocked Darcy at first (even in a tower full of avengers, her apartment always felt homey), but she realized how hard this world must be for him. She realized how expensive and unnecessary everything must seem, especially after Steve had described his and Bucky’s lives growing up. He could get by with the bare minimum, between the 30’s and the army.

After she calmed down and used the sink in his bathroom to clean her face and look somewhat presentable, she sat next to Bucky on the couch.

She offered him a weak smile, tucking her knees up under her chin, her feet on the edge of the beat up coffee table, but Bucky was bristling. He was clearly still angry, though Darcy’s emotions seemed more subdued as her time away from Steve increased.

“Darce, what the hell happened?” His voice wavered and he attempted to look more concerned than angry.

Darcy bit her lip and shook her head. “I… Steve knows about you. Known for a while, I think; he called me out on it and we fought.”

“That was more than a fight. That looked like he beat the crap out of you…with words..” he paused and screwed up his face in annoyance at the utter stupidity of that statement.

Darcy giggled, though the sound was somewhat broken from the previous crying. “That was terrible. He did, a little. I didn’t even know he knew what slut shaming was, let alone be capable of it.”

Bucky held up a hand as his eyebrows furrowed. “Slut shaming?”

“S’when how much sex a girl has is used to insult her. Who she has sex with, what she wears, stuff like that?” Darcy clarified, her nails digging into her arms slightly.

Bucky’s anger renewed at the explanation and stood suddenly, though he was at war with himself. He hated that this had happened to Darcy, but knew that he couldn’t fight for her, especially when it came to Steve. “Punk used to beat up the assholes that did stuff like that! What the hell, Darcy! Didya at least punch him or something?”

Another small stuttered laugh work worked its way out of her. “No, of course not. D’you think you ever could? I mean, he screwed up, but I should’ve known. I kept you from him. You, of all things! He has every right to be upset with me. I just didn’t think he’d be so angry…” Darcy also stood as she was speaking a mile a minute.

Bucky calmed slightly and nodded when he realized she was right – he’d never be able to hit the guy. Give him a stern talking to; definitely, but never hit him.

Darcy continued on her tangent, clearly not noticing Bucky had acknowledged her. “No, actually, he’s completely right. What I did was crazy, from the beginning to last night. I was selfish and thought I knew what was best for all of us and now it’s blown up in my face. Just like everything else has. How could I have been so stupid?”

Bucky gripped her shoulders and shook her just gently enough to snap her out of her rant. “Darcy doll, calm down. You weren’t selfish or stupid. You didn’t know me and when I asked you not to tell Steve that I was back, you didn’t. You gained my trust, did as exactly as I asked. I put you in a difficult position and we had no way of knowing that Steve would find out before you or I could tell him on our own terms. There. You may resume ranting now, but you shouldn’t because you know I’m right.”

Darcy’s mouth hung open and she stared at him then visibly deflated, sagging against his chest. Her arms slid around his ribs and she spoke against his shirt. “I hoped I could convince you to move into the tower… get to know Steve again. Get to know everyone. I’m sure all the avengers would love to get to know you, maybe even have you on the team.” Her voice was soft and unsure, knowing that she could easily spook him.

Bucky tensed slightly, but relaxed and wound his own arms around her back. “That might actually be a good idea. Might be time to smooth things over and become an actual person, again.”

Darcy leaned back from the hug, eyes widening. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel forced into anything just ‘cause I dumped all this on you.”

Bucky released her from the hug, resting his hands at her waist. “Nah, I’ve been me for close to a year now. If that isn’t long enough to get my shit together and go home, then it’s never gonna be enough time. It took meeting you and learning stuff about someone else for me to realize that. “

Darcy smiled at him, her hands sliding up to rest at the base of his neck, fingers tangling in the long messy hair. “Well, I’m glad I could help, but I have another super soldier to attend to, apparently. Sorry for unloading everything and then leaving, but I gotta make things right with Steve, if I can. Aaaaand, I’ve gotta tell Tony we’re getting a new addition to our happy little family at the tower. “

She leaned up, brushing her lips against his cheek. He smiled back at her before replying. “You do that. Catch ya later, Darcy doll.”

Her grin grew even wider as she pulled back and left the apartment.

When she was gone, Bucky collapsed on the couch. What on earth had he just agreed to?


	13. Even if this chemistry's a catastrophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Steve aren't better, yet.  
> Bucky moves into the tower and panics a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass.   
> More accurately the holidays did. And my job still is.  
> Also, shorter than it was supposed to be.  
> Figured posting was better than, ya know, not.

On the way back to the apartment Darcy ran through all the things she and Steve had said. Then everything she and Bucky had talked about. Then the thought crossed her mind – why did she have to apologize? Steve had said horrible things to her and all she’d done was what Bucky had asked of her. The longer she thought about it, the less she wanted to even see him. That was in no way conducive to fixing their relationship or helping Bucky reintegrate so she tamped it all down and mentally prepared a speech.

Darcy returned looking far more put together than when she’d left. Evening had fallen so her cheeks were red from the chilled air. Steve hadn’t left her apartment, hoping she’d come home ready to accept his apology, but her windblown cheeks led him to believe she’d been crying or was still upset even after the few hours that had passed.

“Darce-,“ he started, but she raised a hand to stop him and lowered it when he abruptly stopped.

“First of all, I’m sorry I kept it a secret, however a large part of what happened with Bucky was not your business and he asked me to. I’m not sorry I slept with him. Second of all, I should be more upset that you’re still here. In fact, I am upset about it, but I have something important to tell you. Once I tell you, you should leave. We can resume normal hangouts after this weekend while I eat way too much ice cream and cry a little and take overly good care of myself to remind myself that I’m a strong, badass woman that don’t need no man.”

She stopped, face caught between a frown and wanting to laugh. When the pause lasted too long, Steve raised an eyebrow. “Darce.”

She snapped out of it and raised her hand again. “Right. Something to tell you. Bucky is gonna move into the tower, pending Tony Stark approval. Which he’ll grant ‘cause he’s not an idiot.”

Steve’s jerked to standing so quickly his chair fell backwards and his jaw dropped. “That’s a hell of a bomb to drop.”

Darcy laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, I know, but I felt you should get a little warning.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Okay. Well… Darcy doll, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I should’ve trusted you and now things are going better than I could have planned. I beat up guys, well tried to beat up guys, that said shit like I did. I’m so sorry.”

Darcy stepped up to him and pressed her index finger against his lips. “Steve, sweetie, you’re not sorry right now. You’re angry, but you don’t know how to be angry the right way. You either explode or bottle it all down. So I’m gonna kick you out so I can freak out and be an emotional girl for the weekend and you go be angry in a healthy productive way. We can hash it all out Monday.”

Steve bit his lip and nodded again, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay. I’m… I’ll see you Monday.” He was about to apologize again, but thought better of it. She had a point about how he handled things so maybe blowing off steam in the tower’s gym would be a good start to the evening.

\------------------------------

Come Sunday afternoon, post-Darcy girlfest in which she did exactly what she’d told Steve, she shot a text off to Tony, letting him know about their new tower-mate/super soldier round 2. No way would he say no upon learning who it was and there was already an extra floor prepared so there was no reason it shouldn’t go to Bucky. After sending the text, she headed to Bucky’s apartment.

Only once she reached his place did she take stock of appearance – messy bun, no makeup, torn up jeans and a t-shirt. Ehh. He’d certainly seen her worse off on Friday; nothing to be done about it, now. She raised her hand to the door and knocked only using her finger nails.

Bucky opened the door, smiling brightly at her. “Nice of you to join the land of the living, Darcy Doll; was worried about ya,” he greeted and stepped to the side to let her in.

“’M fine,” she answered, her smile more subdued but no less genuine. “Just needed some time. Our boy is a pain in the ass sometimes.” She winced at her choice of words.

“Our boy?” Bucky mused, walking back to the secondhand couch and plopping down on it.

Darcy sat beside him, on the edge of the cushion, then shrugged. “Uh, yeah?” She chose not to offer up any more information than necessary.

Bucky shrugged. “Kay. So what brings you to my neck of the woods, doll?”

“Was gonna see if you were ready to move into mine?” She retorted with a slightly larger smile.

Looking around as though taking stock of his place and everything in it, Bucky shrugged again. “Sure, just gotta get a duffel of clothes, I guess. Don’t much care about the rest of it.”

“Then hop to it, soldier boy!” Darcy giggled and headed towards the makeshift bedroom which was really just a curtain separating off part of the living room. “We got a reunion to kickstart.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but ‘hopped to’ anyways. Within about 10 minutes everything the man out of time deemed important was packed into a military-style duffel bag and slung over his shoulder.

“Ya know,” Darcy started as they headed out, “I came over with the expectation that you would have more and I’d be helping carry stuff. “

“We could always take the couch,” he snarked, smirking down at her.

“Uhhno, thank you, but I’ll pass on that. For so many reasons – like, oh I don’t know, its ugly as sin?”

He let out a loud laugh and nodded. “True. Just hope Stark’s as swanky a decorator as he is anything else.”

“He totally is.” Darcy grinned up at him. “More swank than you’re gonna know what to do with.” Almost as though he knew they were talking about him, Tony chose that moment to respond to Darcy’s text.

[Text – incoming: from Tony Stark] Steve-o’s long lost boyfriend back from the dead? Well, bring him in. Can’t get any weirder around here. I hope. See ya, Lewis.

He raised an eyebrow at her and wondered what the text was about, but continued on their way without comment. He stopped when they reached the tower and tilted his head up to look to the top. “Jeez… that’s a lot of building…”

Darcy laughed and took hold of his right hand, his left pocketed to cover the brilliant metal. “Well, c’mon! You wanna see the inside and meet everyone, right?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” he answered. He was mostly honest, but he definitely wasn’t ready to see Steve… It’d been so long. All he could think about was the last time he’d seen Steve when they weren’t on a train speeding to their death on the Alps, when he wasn’t far away and hiding but keeping tabs all the same. How would his Stevie react to the man he’d become after all this time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, sticking with me, kudos, comments, etc.<333  
> I'm really excited about the next chapter! More Bucky than you're gonna know what to do with!


	14. Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Asset starts remembering.

** 1944 **

James Buchanan Barnes. Not as he once was, but still James; Still a sergeant. 

_Wipe him_.

Se.. James… Buc-

_Wipe him_.

Steve. Steven Grant Rogers.

_Wipe him_.

_Wipe him_.

St…Asset.

** 1963 **

                “We need you to take down the President. He is a threat and we cannot risk failure.”

The Asset nods his assent and takes the folder handed to him. A red circle around the target’s face – the man is handsome, if not traditionally, surrounded by his family. A beautiful woman in pillbox hat to his left, her arm linked in his.

The folder also contains the president’s threat assessment, an itinerary and various other photos taken over the years. Apparently they’re in Dallas, TX. He has vague memories of being in New York last time he was woken up, but he tells no one of this.

The next day, perched on a grassy knoll, he does as he’s been told. The President’s brains splatter over the woman in pink and the convertible. As soon as he confirms the shot, he returns to his handler, returns to the ice with a hope to be woken soon. He hates the ice.

** 1991 **

                “This man is a threat. Kill him, but make it look like an accident. Collateral damage is acceptable.”

Again, always, a folder is handed to him containing the pertinent information - pictures, a name, places where the target will be, the best way to take him out while allowing him room to improvise. His specific set of skills allows him to see all the mistakes they’ve already made and change course for something better. They won’t question him, never do. In fact, they always seem a little pleased when he goes off book, so long as it ends in the death they require.

His handlers are almost never the same twice. If they are, they age rapidly. What feels like days to the Asset is clearly years.  Pierce has been around over the last several missions, though always in a different capacity. Now, it seems, he’s in charge. As usual, the Asset never lets on that he remembers anything, recognizes any given person. Compliance, silence, and a blank slate are all they want from him.

The middle of the night brings cold, freezing rain turned to an icy road, snow covering the black ice and causing wrecks even for the slowest and safest of the evening’s drivers.

The ripped out brake cable in the car Howard insisted on driving himself is just the icing on top of the frozen cake. The Asset watches the car spin out of control, flip over the guardrail and slide. The woman thrown from the car, dies instantly on the frigid pavement.

The man however, who looked so familiar (but the Asset never questions), stayed strapped into the car, metal crushing him and a head wound obvious, but he retains consciousness. The Asset kneels by the car, gauging the injuries and possible survival. Nothing can be done to save him so best not to disturb him or use unnecessary, suspicious bullets. The Asset sits against the car, snow soaking into his uniform, but Assets do not feel cold. Not anymore. While he sits and waits for the man to succumb to his injuries, Stark starts speaking to him.

“I knew you couldn’t be dead… I don’t know how you’re here right now. Are you a ghost? I always thought Steve would survive his fall, too. Guess I was wrong about everything. I’m so sorry, James.. I thought we were playing God. Thought we could save both of you, make you better. We made Steve better. Did Hydra do the same for you? Ohgod, everything hurts. James, please help me. I know I don’t deserve it, but please…”

Though he continued speaking, his voice lowered and he began mumbling. Ja – The Asset felt a tear slide down his cheek though he would not otherwise acknowledge it. Steve. Stevie. Did he remember Steve? He couldn’t be sure. Everything seemed so muddled and every time he was wiped and frozen the few memories he could hold onto seemed to slip away once again.

Finally, Howard was silent, dead. The Asset stood and returned to his handlers as he always did, unshed tears swallowed back down and Steve’s name on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to keep this, but knew he wouldn’t, especially not if he said as much. Pierce would know and Pierce was worse than any handler he’d ever had the barest memory of.

** 2009 **

A curtain of fiery red hair and a small lithe body – Natalia; She didn’t go by that name anymore and she wasn’t his target. The man, overweight with olive skin and thick, black as night hair, was. This small woman, so much stronger than she seemed, wouldn’t remove her cover. His rifle, balanced against his shoulder kicked back though he never stumbled. One tire after the other popped as the air left them and shook the car.

He watched carefully as it went over the cliff. Though it seemed hopeless for them, he wouldn’t leave until the kill was confirmed. Always following orders. He peered over the edge into the ravine, and what he saw shocked him. This incredible woman survived an impossible fall and was pulling the target out of the wreckage. He was injured, but in no way fatally. From his current angle, he had two choices – leave them and try later or fire through her.

Raising his rifle, he fired off a single shot and turned away, returning once more to his handlers and the ice he hated so much.

** 2012 **

                Mission completed.

Upon his attempt to return, his handlers were nowhere to be found. Pierce would not be pleased, but the Asset wouldn’t tell him anything. No point in stupid civilian handlers being killed and more wiping to keep the Asset compliant and quiet if it wasn’t necessary. He’d wait at the rendezvous point as instructed – no harm, no foul.

The rendezvous point however, was a block near Brooklyn. The familiarity went deep into the Asset’s bones, willing him to even try and ignore it. This particular block was safe from the aliens that had attacked last month, but debris and even some of the alien tech littered the ground just a few blocks away. The perimeter of the attack, even a month later, was obvious. The destruction and pain that one man… god!, had caused was monumental. The Asset had heard Hydra agents speak of it. Loki’s brilliance, the attack on such a great cultural epicenter such a New York, helping Hydra without even meaning to. On a few TVs in a shop down the street, the Asset recognized the man speaking. People called him Captain America, but the name Steve rolled to the tip of the Asset’s tongue. Why was this name – this man – so familiar?

Captain America was giving an interview on some national television station about the battle of New York. He discussed how he was helping with the recovery effort, what the battle itself had been like, what working with the others that called themselves the Avengers was like. At the end he added how others could help and said great progress had been made, but there was still so much to do to make New York home again.

The interview finished and the handlers returned from…wherever…they’d been.

“Oh shit, how long has been here?”

“I don’t know.. I mean, does it matter? He can’t possibly remember anything. We wipe him after every mission, anyway.”

“I guess. Doesn’t this mean Pierce needs to do a deep clean or whatever? Make sure he doesn’t remember anything?”

“And have us admit we left him alone too long so we can get shot? I’ll pass. What Pierce doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

The Asset stood, awaiting his orders to go with them to be wiped and frozen. The two men before him said and such and led him away. A last, surreptitious glance at the TV with the Captain on it, smiling, and a passing thought before he emptied his mind in preparation for the pain.

_I knew him._

** 2014 **

                Pierce. Though older even than the last time they’d been face to face, the Asset would know him anywhere. Those eyes haunted his dreams while on ice; the controlled, smug smirk. The Asset wasn’t allowed feelings, he knew, but he hated Pierce.

“We need you. Just one more time. After this, Project Insight will do the work for all of us, but I need you to be our great fist, our muscle, one more time. “

That voice, syrupy sweet, but commanding and a gaze that dared defiance would never allow him to say no. The Asset, without looking up or moving a single other muscle, nodded once and reached a hand out for the dossier on this new, and apparently final, target.

Committing the information to memory, he geared up and headed out. This time they were in Washington D.C., the old and official looking buildings obvious and the bustling metropolis of the city allowing even his masked and hidden self to blend seamlessly into crowds.

After tracking the target, a woman this time, for nearing an hour, the Asset began to grow bored. He couldn’t just yank out a pistol and shoot her in any of these crowded spaces, but she seemed never to be alone or somewhere quiet.

An hour after that, she seemed to realize she was being tracked, and closely at that. Before long the chase became quick and a bit wild. She kept to the shadows, but hid herself easily among other people and at last pushed open the doors of the Smithsonian and disappeared amongst the various exhibits and the thousands of people gathered in this one building to view history.

It didn’t take him long to figure out which exhibit she slipped into. Captain America.

Why was that so recognizable? Why did he always think of the name Steve? So mundane. He never should have remembered these things anyway.

Slowing down so as not to frighten the target off or scare any of the patrons, the Asset took in the various sections of the exhibit for himself. A picture of a small, blond man in military uniform sparked memories of the boy being punched by men much larger than he was, and of an argument. Too many health problems to be in a war, Stevie. Need you to stay home where I know you’ll be safe.

Next an image of the what seemed to be the same man, except now 6’2” and 200 pounds of solid muscle.

“Thought you were smaller, what happened?”

“Joined the army.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, the Asset began to breathe slightly heavier, mission abandoned. He turned once more, hoping the end of this was nearing only to be met with his own face, younger, and larger than life. A large plaque that read James Buchanan Barnes, 1916-1944, only member of the Howling Commandoes to give his life in service of his country stood before him. Memories suddenly overtook him, how and why he knew the name Steve long after he’d forgotten his own, why Howard Stark had seemed so familiar to him. Howard’s babble made sense now – they wanted to save him, but hadn’t even known he’d been alive.

His name was Bucky. He was not the asset. He never would be again. Now, how could he get back to Steve.

 

…Steve didn’t even know he was alive..

Perhaps this would be a tad more difficult than he hoped.

And he had a headache. Step one, find some aspirin.


	15. Never thought you'd pull the trigger on me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky sees Steve.

Darcy took Bucky to what was now his own apartment, way nicer than the dump he’d been in he was happy to say. When his eyes popped open and his jaw dropped, Darcy snapped a picture on her phone, giggling behind her hand. The more he saw, the more nervous he was about the inevitable reunion with Steve. The building they were in, the apartment, (and some of the offices he’d seen on the way up) were a kick in the head reminder of how far they’d come – how far into the future, what’s happened to both of them. Now the woman in front of him had captivated them both and was the cause for all that would come over the next few weeks, and maybe the rest of their lives.

It only took twenty minutes to unpack the meager belongings Bucky had wanted to bring with him, but by the end of that he’d almost started hyperventilating. When Darcy noticed, she sat him down and helped him breathe.

“C’mon, James, breathe for me. Take a deep breath. Can you do that?” Bucky narrowed his eyes minutely but nodded and did his best to inhale. Over the next few minutes, his breathing slowed to normal.

“Bucky.” He said simply, eyes locking with Darcy’s.

“Huh?” She questioned, dumbstruck at the oddness of him saying his name.

“Call me Bucky.” Oh. Not his name. His nickname. She wracked her brain for memories of what she’d called him. Sure, she called him Bucky, but never to his face. She’d only ever called him James. Once before, in the alley. Now she had express permission to use the nickname that no one had used since the 40’s.

She then realized she hadn’t said anything, his face expectant and slowly more worried.

“Right! Thanks. I didn’t know what you’d prefer. I guess I’ve been subconsciously avoiding it altogether.” She patted his hand and smiled at him.

“I noticed,” he replied with a small smile in return.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna go. I’ve got some stuff to take care of. You settle in and I’ll have everyone at dinner so you can meet them all. It’ll be great!” She retracted her hand and got up, heading toward the door. “You good with that?” she asked at the last moment.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll work it out.” Bucky smiled at her, relaxing into the couch.

“Good.” She left and headed back to her own apartment.

 -----------------------------------------------

Bucky decided sitting in bare bones apartment was boring so he went exploring instead. On his exploration he found two other apartments by accident, a few levels of offices, the common room (where a bemused Clint watched silently from the rafters), and finally the gym. The gym that currently housed one extremely worked up Steven Grant Rogers and his many punching bags.

Bucky took a deep breath before entering the gym. Now or never.

As silently as his body would allow, he moved toward the other man who was relentlessly punching the heavy sandbag.

“Hey, punk. How many times I gotta teach ya how to talk to a woman? Seventy years and you still need me t’bail ya out.”

Steve turned, fist swinging out toward Bucky’s face. Bucky barely ducked in time, but when he popped his head back up he was grinning. “Is that any way to greet your best guy?”

“What are you even doing here?” Steve’s clenched fists were lowered to his sides, but he was seething. His face was bright red and his eyes were tightly narrowed.

Bucky shrugged. “Moved in. Darcy had Stark junior set up an apartment for me and I didn’t have much so here I am.”

“Haven’t you caused enough problems without invading my home?”

“Invading yo- What?! I thought you’d be happy to see me home. I thought it’d be nice to be reunited after seventy fucking years. Punk, I lo- I missed you. And your home? The one where you mistrust, abuse, and slut shame women?” Bucky’s own face reddened as he worked himself up, the gears in his arm whirring and rearranging as though gearing up for a fight.

“Darcy’s been talking to you…” Steve pauses for a moment. “If you missed me so goddamn much then where were you?! I’ve been right here for three years. Where in the fucking hell were you?”

“I was… I.. I uhm. Had to stay away.” Bucky lowered his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets.  His history was certainly not something he was going to get into now or here. A reunion in a gym that was not going as planned.

“Great, Buck, that’s just great. Could you be anymore vague?”

“Well I’m sorry this isn’t the answer you wanted, but it’s the one I have. I’m not ready to talk about it, least of all with you. There’s enough trauma between us to last several lifetimes and I’m not ready to explore any of it, yet. I was hoping that getting to see you again, awake and healthy and safe, would be enough. I hoped…” He trailed off, making to leave. “I’m sorry my very existence is so upsetting to you. I’ll go. I’ll see you at dinner, though, I guess. Darcy is going to get everyone together.”

With that, he left the gym, letting the door slam behind him. Steve stood rooted to the spot, tears streaming down his face. He dreamed for so long about Bucky – what he would say if they had just one more day. What would he do if he got to hold Bucky just one more time? Now Bucky was back, tangible and not just a dream slipping through his grasp, but Steve had royally fucked up.  He was far and away still at odds with Darcy, and now.. How many people would he estrange before he could get his shit under control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one was a little shorter than any other chapter, but that felt like a good ending.  
> This also means more chapters! Lol. And as per usual, sorry this took so long, its definitely not abandoned.  
> I really should've written more before I actually posted any of this...


	16. I can't believe I didn't say this sooner;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve admits he has PTSD. Darcy gets everyone together for a tense dinner.
> 
> Ch. title from The Almost's 'Say This Sooner'.

PTSD. Steve had heard of it, of course. He never thought it applied to him. How could he possibly be traumatized when other people had suffered much worse than he had? Wherever Bucky had been couldn’t have been a picnic or he’d have been more open, but he seemed to be doing better than Steve. The restless irritability and constant agitation – he just hadn’t found the right outlet. That was all.

 

Except maybe… it wasn’t. Sam had offered help and a strong, well-adjusted shoulder, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to take it. He was a lab experiment – he was certainly stronger than this. Well, he’d thought so. He knew that how he’d handled Darcy and Bucky was many steps too far.

Steve stood up, rolled his shoulders back, threw three more swings at the sandbag with the entirety of his weight behind them, and then unwrapped his hands. Maybe Sam would still be understanding and help him get over himself.

 

When he found Sam in his makeshift office on the common floor the younger man was pouring over a novel with an oddly decorated plane on the cover. Steve knocked gently on the open door, eyes cast down primarily in annoyance at himself.

 

Sam’s head lifted and he grinned brightly. “Hey, man, how ya doing?”

Steve shrugged a shoulder half-heartedly. This may be harder than he thought. “I’m.. uhm. I need help.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow, guardedly.  “With..?” Sam didn’t want to assume this was related to Bucky and Darcy. No, assume was the wrong word. He hoped, desperately, that this wasn’t about Bucky and Darcy.

Steve sighed heavily as he moved further into the room, closing the door behind him.  “I’m apparently a shitty person.” He paused and laughed at the shock on Sam’s face. “Not like you think I mean. I mean… I have PTSD. It’s now impacting important relationships in a way I can’t continue to ignore. Can you help?”

Sam gestured for Steve to sit down, never liking how much the other man tended to tower over him, especially in this small of a space. When Steve did sit, Sam began talking.

“Look. You know I’m not great at one-on-one stuff – I’m sure as hell not trained for it, but I can try. I know that discussing stuff like what you’ve been through is hard, next to impossible if you don’t trust the person you’re talking to. I just need you to promise that if either of us calls this off, you’ll let me help you find someone else. Period. Otherwise, I don’t start and we find you someone else, now.”

Steve’s eyes lowered slightly and he nodded. “Okay. I’d rather try with you first. Strangers would… well, I’ve never met someone who could stay professional; not really. Except you.”

Sam’s grin returned full force as he stuffed his novel into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a small pamphlet. “Day one, then. You already know what you have, now we discuss the symptoms and how to treat them.”

Several hours later and Steve wasn’t overly convinced this was going solve everything, but it was certainly a start. He was genuinely smiling, at least.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner was a fiasco. As expected.

Darcy wasn’t sure what she had expected from this whole thing, but Bucky did. A disaster. Self-fulfilling prophecy, much? Somehow he’d managed to upset every Avenger. Mostly because they all knew how Steve felt about the whole thing. And where Steve goes, so goes his nation.

The evening started out nice enough. Bucky put on as nice of clothes as he could find on such short notice (Darcy insisted that she and Pepper would put together the perfect wardrobe over the next few days, but what he had would have to suffice for now), found a glove for the metal hand (he wasn’t ashamed at this point, but didn’t want anyone else to be uncomfortable), and actually brushed his too-long hair.

Darcy came for him around 6:30, stunning though she was just wearing jeans and a dark blue wrap blouse that accentuated her curves and her hair cascading over her shoulders in its customary thick waves. Her smile gave him courage he hadn’t realized he was in such desperate need of. Then again, Steve would be there, wouldn’t he? After this afternoon, that was the last thing he needed or wanted to deal with.

Instead of voicing concerns or filling Darcy in on the most recent drama, he linked his arm with hers and followed her into the elevator and up to the common dining area.

Everyone was already seated around the extremely large table – Tony and Pepper, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Thor and Jane, and… Steve. Bucky had hoped beyond all hope that maybe Steve wouldn’t be there. The fight should’ve been enough to keep him away; at least he’d assumed. This evening was gonna be hard enough without trying to deal with that, too.

Steve lowered his eyes minutely as Darcy and Bucky entered. He hoped not to draw too much attention to it and ruin Bucky’s ability to make new, important connections in this century. Darcy was certainly helping and Steve didn’t want to hinder anything because of his own issues.

Stark, ever the ice breaker, greeted the two brightly and gestured for them to sit, their seats on the opposite side of the table from Steve.

“Hey, RoboCop, Tits McGee! How goes it?” Stark grinned, even as Pepper whacked him on the arm for the inappropriate nicknames.

Darcy stuck her tongue out, but smiled as she took her seat. “I’m fine. Can’t speak for this one, but we moved him in today!”

There were a few nods of assent, a raised eyebrow from Jane (that said we’ll be talking later), and a whoop of glee from Thor (who never tired of meeting new Midgardians.)

Bucky shrugged slightly, only his human shoulder, tucking the metal arm down and close to his body. “I’m… overwhelmed, but happy to be here?” The end of his statement rose in pitch to be more questioning than he intended and he winced as he realized. Smooth, Barnes. Super smooth.

Already Darcy noticed the tension – Bucky’s uneasy posture and Steve’s downcast eyes and silence. Jane was clearly attempting to stay nonchalant even though this was not quite what she expected from Darcy, Natasha was silently assessing everyone, easily picking up on everything Darcy was and briefly locked eyes with her in a show of guarded support; Even Stark seemed a little frosty under his natural host exterior.

Pepper, Bruce, Clint (noticing far more than he let on), and Thor remained oblivious as they began passing food around and chatting animatedly. Meanwhile, Darcy panicked. What on Earth had she been thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. Confrontation again. Next chapter should be up in the next few days. ^.^
> 
> Also. Hi! Missed you guys (and this story. Ugh. Life kinda super-sucked for awhile.)  
> Quick version - I quit my job, got 2 new ones (one full time, one part time), had a friend get diagnosed with cancer in July, same friend was declared in remission a few weeks ago, I'm planning on moving soon, my cat was sick for several weeks, I got a new tattoo... uhm... I think that's it. Now things are calm(ish) and I'm gonna write as much as possible. For anyone who comes back to this with me, thank you!
> 
> P.P.S. - Sam is reading Chuck Palahniuk's Survivor.


	17. Author's Note.

A couple of days... two months... same thing, right?  
Ugh. Sorry, guys! (if anyone is still around for this.)  
Working two jobs, holidays, life stress, this story not cooperating anymore.  
I'm really not ready to give it up, but I also super-suck at keeping any kind of schedule or committing to the writing.   
Muses are fickle beings.  
Anyways, this note is just to say sorry. It'll happen eventually.   
Also, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, etc.  
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3


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